Haunt/Bed

I'm sorry that your dad's dead
I hope you amend it
I think I've lost a lot of my friends
Through belief that I'm an instrument
And fuck me if you must then
Treat me like an old friend
I can't exist within my own head
So I insist on haunting your bed
If you could only hear what I said
You'd see I'm not scared

I'm not, no
I'm not scared

Spin car 'round
Push your head down, down down
Smash into the ground with you
There's been a piece of glass found
And a terrible sound, sound
What if they're saying is true?

Oh I prefer it in your bed, television set

I'm not scared