Taking off your clothes on Sunday
Paying off your loans, in the city
Wishing you were home, in LA
Aching in yours bones, it's your way
You fake, like you're doing all right, till he comes home drunk in the middle of the night
And he stays
And you say, that you're doing just fine, till you call up crying, in the middle of the night
Cause you're late
He's taking you to Rome on Friday
You never really been outside LA
I hate to be alone, in the suburbs
But it's hard to miss the cold in this weather
And you say, that you're doing all right, but you come home high in the middle of the night and you break
And you fake that you're doing all right, till you call up crying in the middle of the night
Cause you're late
And you say that you're doing alright, till he comes home drunk in the middle of the night
And he stays
And you say that you're doing just fine, till you curl up crying in the middle of the night cause
You're late