When I Hang Up

Can you tell that something’s wrong?
I've kind of felt it all along
I try to pick my brain, pretend that I'm sane, but can you tell that something’s wrong?

I'm waking up to bad news and growing numb to all the views. ‘Cause when I go away, I lose my head every day, waking up to bad news

My home is the telephone under the streetlight, most nights
And I've grown with these moments alone that last a lifetime when I hang up

I seem to choke on every word and bite my tongue on every verse
I try to skip the page, move on to better days, but still I choke on every word

My home is the telephone under the streetlight, most nights
And I've grown with these moments alone that last a lifetime when I hang up
My home is the telephone under the streetlight, most nights
If I let go of these burdens I hone, I’ll lose a lifetime when I hang up

Can you tell that something’s wrong?
I've kind of felt it all along
I try to pick my brain, pretend that I'm sane, but can you tell that something’s wrong?

My home is the telephone under the streetlight, most nights
And I've grown with these moments alone that last a lifetime when I hang up
My home is the telephone under the streetlight, most nights
If I let go of these burdens I hone, I’ll lose a lifetime when I hang up

When I hang up...
I try to pick my brain, pretend that I'm sane
When I hang up...