I'm waiting for Juniper
Said she'd be back by now
I miss that girl
But I don't think she feels the same
I'm sitting like a dog by the window
I think the grass is judging
Oh well
It can think what it wants
And I hope it knows
That I don't mind the shape of the sun
I woke up with some funny little scars
The walls spit in my face
"Why can't you be nice?" I asked, they pointed and they laughed
And now I'm sitting here, covered in spit and scars
They told me that I'm nothing
That's ok
I'm used to it anyway
Plus I don't mind the shape of the sun
I think I broke my knuckles
They're probably mad at me
I'd be mad as hell, I'd be mad as well
My hand is really starting to swell
And I really don't think
The sun likes me at all