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Chantal Kreviazuk Under These Rocks & 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 smelling dead flowers And listening to the walls again I'm drinking from a leaky faucet And writing this with a 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 Kind of like show and tell Someone to listen Someone to laugh Someone to cry at the right times And i would call him up But i don't remember his name |
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