Don’t seem right I’ve done my time
but I still feel guilty.
Don’t seem right, I’ve been scrubbing all night
but I stll feel filthy.
Isn’t there anything around here
that will make me feel good?
A nice place like this should.
But who am I to talk out loud?
But who am I to be proud?
But who am I in such a crowd?
Wouldn’t it be good just to find out?
If hearts really break could I have been
born with a broken heart?
If hearts really do, could mine have been
broken from the start?
Isn’t there anything around here
that will make me feel good?
A nice place like this should.
But how do I live with doubt?
How do I learn to think about it?
How can I ever live without it?
Wouldn’t it be good just to find out?
Don’t seem fair, I don’t want to
leave town just to wander around
like an orphan child.
Isn’t there anything around here
that will make me feel good?
A nice place like this should.
So I could come around.
So many questions cloud
a single answer
buried six feet down.
Wouldn’t it be good just to find out?