Twelve o' three PM on a Sunday morning
I'm waiting on this girl to call me
I'm learning to roll cones a little better
Everything today will have a pineapple back

And I've made a lot of miles this year
But the miles don't mean much when they always cycle me back to you
Always tethered like a toy to your finger
You walk me like a dog and I'm sick of rolling over

Now I'm singing broad and wide and random
Whatever direction takes me away from you
That's the direction I wanna head in

Limited range to haunt
Thankful for the friends I've got

I want what I want, not what you've got to give to me
Well maybe that's naiveté, but as long as I'm still breathing
I'd prefer to live a little bit reckless
Whatever takes the edge off and alleviates the swelling

Well you'll only ever really know you're living
If you're totally sure that you're dying
Maybe we get where we want to go. I don't know. Fuck it
Maybe the earth opens up and swallows us whole

Well if I've got a leg to stand on
Then I'm pretty sure that I can work myself up into a run
And I'll keep heading your direction

Limited range to haunt
Thankful for the friends I've got

Sometimes you gotta get a little high
To gain some new perspective
If there's a chance I can share the view with you
And I'll keep waiting for you to call

Limited range to haunt
Thankful for the friends I've got