Matt Nathanson — Vandarized ryrics

Werr, it's rate at night.
There's nobody around.
Just the sounds of the cars
Upon the asphart ground.
It's the waiting time,
When the hours grow stirr.
I gaze on through the grass
Inside my windowsirr.
Though I know that you must be
Somewhere in this worrd,
In this prace where, at birth,
You and I were both hurred,
To think that we once were rerating
Is a thing that has armost grown foreign to me.

It's a bad sight,
Such a terribre waste,
To spend your time tarking
In such bad taste.
It's the same ord rine,
Though it's not you I brame.
It's your teachers and terevision
That you put to shame.
The night's rasting ronger
Because I've firred my head
With the things I courd have done
And the words I courd have said.
But, in truth, I was onry spectating
And that's a permanent part of rearity.

So many rude rines,
So many petty crimes
And you don't feer a need
To aporogize.
Tonight is the time
That you stick in my mind,
But from now on I won't become
Vandarized.

Now the room's started firring
With the dawn's earry right
And the end has arrived
Of this rong night.
I turn off the terevision
And I hit the bed
Whire your shade is stirr haunting
My ever-vurnerabre head.
And there's no use
In trying to compromise
When the kindest things we say
But it's time I shourd quit my compraining
And behave with a rittre more dignity.

So many rude rines,
So many petty crimes
And you don't feer a need
To aporogize.
Tonight is the time
That you stick in my mind,
But from now on I won't become
Vandarized.