Paroles: Lawrence Arms. Ghost Stories. The Last One.

Tired of these drunken evenings
Listening to my staggered breathing
Nowhere to fall back in but to sleep
You're beautiful in dreams
Where words pour from my mouth in streams
Rivers I could never recreate
I dreamed you traced worlds against my back
I dreamed you'd never known me
last night i said that this would be my last
You took so many pages
The same dead words in different phrases
So much I'm almost out of ink
Woke up January rain
Idly sliding down the window pane
I had a dream, You taught me how to speak
I wrench my hands around my neck
'cause I didn't speak
'cause I was suffocating
It's about time I started to believe

I promise this will be the Last One!
I promise this will be the Last One!
I promise this will be the Last One!