Cottonwood Firing Squad
Its All in My Head
These motels are never honest
Hiding any trace of previous guests
As if the beds were never slept in
And they remained that way after I had left
Every stain in the carpet more present
As I kicked off my shoes
There's a home for every bastard
As I sit here in my room without a view
As I sit here in my room without a view
If it's all in my head
Why does it feel so real
These thoughts are never stable
Just a measure of the passing of time
My head is never on right
Just a vessel for the thoughts in my mind
If it's all in my head
Why does it feel so real