It's just the average Sunday,
cold and the radio's humming...

And we hunker down beneath these barriers
we call sheets and pillows...

It's just a pill,
so what's it matter...

I hate these nights where I know
that my someday...

There once was a girl named Breanne
and quite honestly, she hadn't a tan...

Remember those big yellow suns you used to draw...
Funny how the world changes. How would you colour...

Oh, isn't it just a bit-
oh, just a bit...

Little golden smiles,
sunrise in your eyes...

Train tracks,
train wreck...

Your hands shake because I am holding you
and all you really want is for me...

It's alright, sunshine,
it's just a little piece of tomorrow...

I'm scared to put it in a poem
'cause that means that it is true...