I got the best seat in the house
And you've been dying to try it on
So when weeks turn into months and the blood dries up
I'm watching TV and you're up and gone
I want a house with a picket fence
So I can yell at the neighbor's kids
So when months turn into years and the scars disappear
I'll box all my thoughts up and shut the lid
And I hope your car tailspins on its way home
I'm chasing the high of skipping your funeral
Hope your car tailspins on its way home
I'm chasing the high of skipping your funeral