A Collection of Accounts

I try to keep still when I sleep

Or I get rubbed wrong by the sheets

I pull a pillow across my eyes

'Cause it's a dagger that eastern line

And when I step outside that door

I don't exist so much anymore

But as an arrow flashing up or down

Just a collection of accounts

A collection of accounts

A collection of accounts

Drained dry every day

Like a ditch that feeds a fountain

Just to be restored

And get drained some more

Do you feel the target on the back of your head

Based on the threadcount of your bed

Black ink you might sketch your friends

But it's a dagger that's sinking dread

And when I step outside that door

I don't exist so much anymore

But as an arrow flashing up or down

Just a collection of accounts

A collection of accounts

A collection of accounts

Drained dry every day

Like a ditch that feeds a fountain

Just to be restored

And get drained some more