sat outside my front window
  this story's going somewhere
  "he's well hung" and i am hanging up
  well theres a song on the radio that says
  "let's get this party started, let's get this party started"
  what you do on you own time's just fine
  my imagination's much worse than i ever wanted to know
  and what meant the world implodeded...
  inflated then demoted all my oxygen to product gas
  and suffocated my last chance you said between your smiles and regrets
  "dont say it's over"
  dead and gone calm before the storm
  set it off, and the sun burnt out tonight
  reception less than warm
  set it off and the sun burnt out tonight
  the next time the phone can wring my neck it gets no answer
  and of the time that i've spent telling it my roots
  i'm shaking in my boots
  and still it looks at me like an old friend i've betrayed
  the darkside of the doormat is the one your shoes have frayed
  the sun burnt out tonight