He sits in your room, his tomb with a fistful of tacks
Preoccupied with his vengeance
Cursing the dead that can't answer him back
You know that he has no intentions
Of looking your way, unless its to say
That he needs you to test his inventions
Babe, come crawl out your window
Use your hands and legs, it won't ruin you
How can you say he will haunt you
You can go back to him anytime you want to
He looks so truthful, is this how he feels?
Trying to peel the moon and expose it
You've got a lot of nerve to say you are my friend,
if you won't come out your window