Bad Letter From Home

It's three in the morning and I'm already tired. My pulse keeps on racing, feels like I'm wired. Bad vibes from your letter, but can't afford many calls, My pain is like paint flaking from walls. I want to have hope, but it keeps on dieing, I want to believe, but I'm so tired of trying. The past is repeating, so what else is new. I've been hurt before, but never like you. I'll keep on going, too damned mean to die. Just a few million more tears I've yet to cry.