Spillt Ink

From Stone Sour, Through the Glass:

But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home
Sitting all alone inside your head

"Hello, hello, hello." We're waiting to order at the drivethru for Taco Bell and we have yet to be asked how we are.

"They can hear everything we're saying inside."

"It's song lyrics," I say, and push buttons on the CD player.

"(Hello, hello, hello.)"