Yours

I'm feelin' dull and drowsy
like a penny in the sand,
when the sun has beat it to submission,
no treasure anymore.
Just droning through the
monotony.

Excuse me, but could you tell me,
if this sharp pain is the feeling of the break?
'Cause I can't seem to plug it up
and I fear that my everything,
oh yes, my everything,
is spilling through the hole.

I've quit trying to mop at this sea
that I spilt from my pessimist's cup,
and instead hopped a rail
and took a sail
across the edges of the world.

Excuse me, but could you tell me,
Am I still your girl?