12:03 PM on a Sunday morning I’m waiting on this girl to call me I’m learning to roll cones a little better Everything today will have a pineapple-back And I’ve made a lot of miles this year But the miles don’t mean much when they always circle me back to you I’ve been tethered like a toy to your finger You walk me like a dog and I’m sick of rolling over
Now I’m swinging broad and wide and random Whatever direction takes me away from you That’s the direction I wanna head in
A limited range to haunt Thankful for the friends I’ve got
I want what I want, not what you’ve got to give to me Well maybe that’s naivety, but as long as I’m still breathing I’d prefer to live a little bit reckless Whatever takes the edge off and alleviates the swelling Well you’ll only ever really know you’re living If you’re totally sure that you’re dying Maybe we get where we wanna go. I don’t know. Fuck it Maybe the earth opens up and swallows us whole
Well if I’ve got a leg to stand on, then I’m pretty sure That I can work myself up into a run And I’ll keep heading your direction
A limited range to haunt Thankful for the friends I’ve got
Sometimes you’ve gotta get a little high to gain some new perspective If there’s a chance I can share the view with you Then I’ll keep waiting for you to call
A limited range to haunt Thankful for the friends I’ve got