Fisher - Miseryland

I learned to fly
So you
You ran to find the gun
To shoot me down
Before
I got too high
'Cause you could not stand
To stand alone in the long line
For your wild ride - it requires
Two lost souls per seat
At least five foot five


Chorus:
--And I don't wanna' go
for a ride
Down to Miseryland
Trapped with you
By my side