yesterday I had no heroes
and all my friends were dead
I thought I'd sleep a thousand years
and went to find a bed
someone said "I've seen your eyes,"
"you've been through here before"
they made me take off my discuise
and place it on the floor
I stayed with them for forty days
their words were cold as ice
they asked me if I liked the view
I told them it was nice
they sang me songs, they told me stories
they said that I was wrong
"you're better off like this," they said
"than wanting to belong"
I told them I'd be leaving soon
they said that it was right
I packed up all my clothes and books
and left that very night
I passed a warehouse full of toys
whose children had grown old
reminding me of all the things
I wish I hadn't sold
