A quarter to three

It's one a.m. you haven't called
it must be four wherever you are
and the photo booth strip, and the letter you wrote
they feel like nothing i could hold
Nothing bad, nothing free
there's nothing left
for me to feel
It's like goin' to bed at a quarter to three
finally tired, finally empoty
Should i be up to play the game
back and forth get back at me
and my confidence fell and i feel so mad
tell me whose side are you on?
It's like goin' to peices could fix everything
at this point i'm really me