Mountains of fast food wrappers made valleys on the floor,
and a layer of haze made you lose your way
to the refrigerator door.
Two dozen old, too many worries to deny,
so you stayed up all night watching old TV;
called your friends up just to cry.
But you’re older now, and getting older every day,
and you’re trying to treat your body in a natural way.
You got money in your pocket, a king sized bed
and a caring soul to share it with.
But you don’t tell them about the nightmares.
All your days of shame are in boxes scarred with air holes.
At night their eyes peek out at you underneath the closet door,
and whisper your name.
“Won’t you come and play?”
Won’t you come and--
Wander through Grand Central stinking like a train.
Sprinting through the crowd, your crusty clothes all soaked with rain.
Strangers calling after you though they just learned your name.
While your mind’s too wired to make memories, no two nights are quite the same.
But they haunt you now from that deep, dark hole
in the way back of your head and so deep down in your soul.
And when your friends all ask you why you stare at the middle distance,
you don’t tell them about the nightmares.
All your days of shame are in boxes scarred with air holes.
At night their eyes peek out at you underneath the closet door,
and whisper your name.
“Won’t you come and play?”
Won’t you come and--
Look at you all grown, thinking about the years that you were all alone,
chasing fantasies so fast that you spun out of control.
Now you’re settled down, but the thoughts still race around.
Surrounded by the people, the ones who truly care,
you don’t tell them about the nightmares.
All your days of shame are in boxes scarred with air holes.
At night their eyes peek out at you underneath the closet door,
and whisper your name.
“Won’t you come and play?”
Won’t you come and--
They whisper your name…
“Won’t you come and play?”
Won’t you come and play?