Why Georgia sing and play along

I am driving up

Eightyfive in the kind of morning that lasts all afternoon.

I'm just stuck inside the gloom.

Four more exits to my apartment,

but I am tempted to keep the car in drive,

I'm and leave it all behind.

Because I wonder sometimes

about the outcome of a still verdictless life.

Am I living it right?

Am I living it right?

Am I living it right?

Why, why, Georgia, why?

I rent a room and I fill the spaces with wood in places to make it feel like home.

But all I feel's alone.

It might be a quarter life crisis,

or just the stirring in my soul.

Either way, I

So what, so I've got a smile on,

but it's hiding the quiet superstitions in my head.

Don't believe me,

don't believe me

when I say I've

got it down.

Ev'rybody is just a stranger, but that's the danger in going my own way.

I guess it's the price I have to pay,

yeah, yeah.

Still, "ev'rything happens for a reason" is no reason not to ask myself if I'm living it right?

Am I living it right?

Am I living it right?

Why, tell me why,

why, why, Georgia, why?