Count Each One

Waiting in line to go inside doesn't feel right doesn't feel safe.
I want to make everything right, everything nice, everything neat.
You won't decide. I can't decide. I want to keep everything nice.
It's not for me. If not for me, why would you leave?
Why would you need anything else, somebody else?
I'll try to relax. I'll try to slow down. I'll try to relax.
I'll try to ignore everyone else.
Why do I care what others think?
I want to keep everything nice everything neat if I could only stop thinking.
The city is full of lights, and you count each one like you do the nights
you spend in your bed with the stereo off, quietly mouthing, the words
to every song that plays in your head.