Besedila: Sleater-Kinney. A Quarter To Three.

It's one a.m you haven't called
it must be four wherever you are
And the photo booth strip,
and the letter you wrote
they feel like nothing I could hold

Nothing bad, nothing free
there's nothing left
for me to feel

It's like goin' to bed at a quarter to three
Finally tired, finally empty

Should I be up to play the game
back and forth get back at me
And my confidence fell and I feel so mad
tell me whose side are you on?

It's like goin' to pieces could fix everything
At this point I'm really me