Everywhere I seem to go Ticket sales and face painters Boomerangs fly in the air There's little bugs in my hair Second chances never fair Brings along a load of wear Feeling sad again Hearing crimes in my head Along with things left unsaid A million festers waiting to be fed Everywhere I seem to go Ticket sales and face painters Boomerangs fly in the air Little bugs in my hair People walk down the street They never look down at their feet Feeling sad again Hearing crimes in my head Along with things left unsaid A million festers waiting to be fed