Texty: Pretty Girls Make Graves. More Sweet Soul.

Headaches, handshakes, little blue pills to take
I got my stereo on ten, I'm screaming Connely's pain
And I want to make it louder, louder, louder, louder
To drown out the sound of the road under the tires
Yeah, I want, I want, I want it, want it [x3]
Yeah, I want, I want, I want, I want you
Don't tell me, tell me what I already know
(Dress me up, mess me up, I'm ready to go) [x4]
Long sighs, sad eyes and twelve hour drives
Ten minutes on the phone it never feels like enough
But I want you to know that I Philly it's cold
I'm sick with twenty-two days to go
Twenty-one days to go
I count them down but they just get
Longer, longer, longer, longer, longer
And all the hours, they stretch like all the miles
They run together like the thoughts in my head
While I try to remember the last words I said
Don't tell me, tell me what I already know
(Dress me up, mess me up, I'm ready to go) [x4]
Don't tell me, tell me, what I already know [x4]
Yeah I want to, yeah I want to go