Vārdi: Chantal Kreviazuk. Under These Rocks And Stones. Imaginary Friend.

It scares me to speak my mind
It might sound self-absorbed
I don't say half of what I think
I wonder what I'm thinkin' for

I'm smellin' dead flowers
And listenin' to the walls again
I'm drinkin' from a leaky faucet
And writin' with this dried up pen

Wish I still had my imaginary friend

And who needs to listen, well
What do I have to sell
Everyone's just waitin' for their own turn
Kinda like show and tell

Smellin' dead flowers
And listenin' to the walls again
I'm drinkin' from a leaky faucet
And writin' with this dried up pen

Wish I still had my imaginary friend
Wish I still had my imaginary friend

Someone to listen, someone to laugh
Someone to cry at the right time

I'm smellin' dead flowers
And listenin' to the walls again
I'm drinkin' from a leaky faucet
And writin' with this dried up pen

You know that I'm smellin' dead flowers
And listenin' to the walls
Drinkin' from a leaky faucet
And writin' with this dried up pen

Wish I still had my imaginary friend
Wish I still had my imaginary friend

And I would call him up
But I don't remember his name