Two A.M. Lovesick

I walk like a burned out porn star
With aching feet for a car
My buddy had a baby with a girl named Star
Makes me appreciate how the little things are

But crossing a road isn't easily told
To a young, has-been centerfold
Labeled a winner's episode

Yeah, I'm really clean if you know what I mean
Except for this reoccurring dream
Of losing total feeling
While the windmill's squealing
The windmill's squealing

I paint to kill the dead saints
I paint to make it clear
My colors run in blue and gray
But they give hope to someone dear

Yeah, yeah, yeah, 2 AM lovesick
With a walking pneumonia drum-kick
And this candle doesn't have a wick
But I'm really not that scared
No, I'm not that scared

I walk like a burned out porn star
With aching feet for a car
My buddy had a baby with a girl named Star
Makes me appreciate how the little things are