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Papercuts
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Psychic Friends
Sit, it's December twenty-first,
Can't get no worse
The colors since you all dispersed
Here, on the shortest of days
I got lost in the haze
Of old memories
I keep thinking that somehow
I'll reach you at last
I'll open the curtains
And see you through the glass
Sit, do you remember when
We got high at Disneyland
And said we were psychic friends?
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Still, this sociopathic prince
Has been coming around again
But the rest moves to the Styx
I keep thinking that somehow
I'll reach you at last
I'll open the curtains
And see you through the glass
I keep thinking that somehow
I'll reach you at last
I'll open the curtains
And see you through the glass
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