What's the point in reaching you my lonely friend?
What's the point in friends if friends can't make amends?
I am not impressed not that
I claim to know what's best.
You're sick of love, you're sick of the day.
The sun's your excuse to hide away.
So why?
What about the dreams that keep you up at night?
What about the people each day passing you by?
I am not impressed not that
I claim to know what's best.
You're sick of love, you're sick of the day.
The sun's your excuse to hide away.
You're all alone
You're by your phone
You're probably stoned
So Why?
You're all alone
You're by your phone
You're probably stoned
So Why?
So Why?
So Why?
What's the point in reaching you my lonely friend?
What's the point in friends if friends cannot offend?
I am most impressed you have
Ripped the heart clean out of your chest.
You're sick of love, you're sick of the day.
The sun's your excuse to stow away.
You're all alone
You're by your phone
You're probably stoned
So Why?
You're all alone
You're by your phone
You're probably stoned
Writer(s): Carter Randolph Gravatt, Barry Thomas Privett, Terrell H Clark, Jordan Medas, Scott Andrew Milstead
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com