Little Songs
I sing little songs to myself
And try not to think about myself
That's when I get blinded by sound.
I'm so confused when I think about what I'm supposed to be,
And what my friends think of me,
That's something I can never know.
So when I'm recording songs,
The last past takes so long -
That's when I have to make up words.
You can see me write about the world I'm in,
I think about it most of the time,
When I'm walking home at night,
After people turn off all the lights.
Now I play something good at night,
People put up Christmas lights,
The car's parked, and I'm just sneaking around
Outside their house
When they're asleep inside
I run through the bushes and hide
And I see their dishes in the sink.
Pretty soon now, it will snow,
My first snow away from home,
It's cold and I'm bundled up
