All is heavy, all is empty, though I'm ushered by these lights
Each day a different version of the same old fight
Nothing satisfies my hunger though I know not what I need
from the place I lay my head so dark, indeed
Is this what it means to be free?
I feel foreign in this person, in this body, in this dream
Waking without anger seems impossible to me
I feel tired in this person, in this body, in this dream
And all we're really looking for is home
Is there what it means to be alone?
Most days I find comfort in the people that I see
Inspired by the possibilities of humanity
These days other people aren't enough to set me free
From the version of my shelf of comedy
Oh me, oh my, who is she?
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh