Running Touch Courtesy Of song lyrics

I think I'm tired of hearing don't

With ticket stubs in front of me

Paint my house all shades of gold

That way I can't see

That he's not real

I'm not even friends with ones I know

Courtesy of Curtis, I'm on my own

Quarter your visit and then some

As every breath it stirs me

And I would have no one know

Of all these years waiting

Days sped, winding and wailing In an anvil of sheets

Your nose upon mine, as I would go

But who would you have if I were to leave

But he's not real

I'm not even friends with ones I know

Courtesy of Curtis, I'm on my own