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Paint is peeling on your new favorite toy.
A girl's best friend. Now you're obsolete boy.
Adrift in adverts 'til I've had enough
and it's too late to stay up.
I got a girlfriend with tv-screen eyes.
Smiles when she plays my impending demise.
Voice from the next room while I fall asleep
say's that shit's going down tonight.
Maybe it's me who did everything wrong.
Failed the tests. Maybe.
Failed the tests.
The countryside aches. It will soon disappear.
All but an echo too quiet to hear,
which can't be sustained like apologies
that were never quite enough.
Someday, when you've made some room in your head,
maybe you'll hear it, lying in bed.
Caught in the noise that keeps you company,
there's a voice underground.
Wants to sing you to sleep.
The future is canceled, my love.
The future is canceled.
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