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I don’t know what I want in life
But I know this isn’t it.

The more perfect you become
The less you seem to fit.

And surely something must be wrong
If life attached feels just as shit
As it would do if we were to split.

I don’t know what I want in life
But I know this isn’t it.

I’m waiting for a stranger to admit
That he still loves me more than a little bit,

Chasing that glorious high I know exists
But knowing that, whatever I find,
It’ll never, ever be as good as that first hit.

I don’t know what I want in life
But I know this isn’t it.