Two A.M. Lovesick

I walk like a burnt-out porn star
With aching feet for a car
My buddy had a baby with a girl named Star
Makes me appreciate how the little things are
But crossing the road isn’t easily told
To a young has-been centerfold
Labeled the winner’s episode

Yeah, I’m really clean, if you know what I mean
Except for this reoccuring dream
Of losing total feeling
While the windmill’s squealing

I paint to kill the dead saints
I paint to make it clear
My colors run in blue and grey
But they give hope to someone dear
Yeah yeah yeah

Two AM lovesick
With a walking pneumonia drum kick
And this candle doesn’t have a wick
But I’m really not that sick
I’m not that scared

I walk like a burnt-out porn star
With aching feet for a car
My buddy had a baby with a girl named Star
Makes me appreciate how the little things are