A Quarter to Three

It's one a.m. you haven't called

It must be four wherever you are

And the photo booth strip, and the letter you wrote

They feel like nothing I could hold

Nothing bad, nothing free

There's nothing left

For me to feel

It's like goin' to bed at a quarter to three

Finally tired, finally empoty

Should I be up to play the game

Back and forth get back at me

And my confidence fell and I feel so mad

Tell me whose side are you on?

It's like goin' to peices could fix everything

At this point I'm really me