September snuck right up on me
It passed by me in a basement dream
Where I was just cooling down for getting so worked up
I woke up and still felt the same
Go ahead and board all the windows because I can't see anything
Now I wanna know
What are you still doing here?
And my friends aren't good for anything
And thank god that this porch is blocked by trees
We could get wrapped up, held in custody
I should never try to strum six strings
I'll make a mess I can't clean up any time soon with the same question
What are you still doing here?
And all of your words get stuck like splinters with no remedy to remove
