You are a city bus Driving on the wrong side of the road Where did you go You are the yellow paint Holding on to fire escapes
You are a crowded stranger leaving when I say That everybody always makes me feel the same
You are a heart for sale Selling yourself short Your lonely is loud Where’s your voice pouring through the line Your house on the hill Everyday was spring time
Now there’s a crowded stranger missing when I say That everybody always makes me feel the same