Psychic Friends - Papercuts

Sit, it’s December twenty-first,

Can’t get no worse

The colors since you all dispersed

Here, on the shortest of days

I got lost in the haze

Of old memories

I keep thinking that somehow

I’ll reach you at last

I’ll open the curtains

And see you through the glass

Sit, do you remember when

We got high at Disneyland

And said we were psychic friends?

Still, this sociopathic prince

Has been coming around again

But the rest moves to the Styx

I keep thinking that somehow

I’ll reach you at last

I’ll open the curtains

And see you through the glass

I keep thinking that somehow

I’ll reach you at last

I’ll open the curtains

And see you through the glass