evangelineI got the best seat in the houseAnd you’ve been dying to try it onSo when weeks turn into months and the blood dries upI’m watching TV and you’re up and gone
I want a house with a picket fenceSo I can yell at the neighbor’s kidsSo when months turn into years and the scars disappearI’ll box all my thoughts up and shut the lid
And I hope your car tailspins on its way home
And I hope your car tailspins on its way homeI’m chasing the high of skipping your funeralHope your car tailspins on its way homeI’m chasing the high of skipping your funeral