I don't go outside
because I can't control the environment.
And feeling's not quite the word.
And my eyes are dead
giveaways of how I spent today
emptying my pockets on countertops
of all the bars on the streets and blocks.
We came to the party to wait in the car
and watch all the smokers clutter the yard.
Twiddle your fingers back and forth
and write it all off like we've done before.
We can only stay for so long,
we've got plans that will be gone
by the time you get through to me.
Cigarettes and sleeping pills
and I wash it all down with black coffee.
Another working night with nonstop planning
what's it gonna be tonight?
We've got no substitute
for good and cheap substance abuse.
With blurry eyes and fucked up smiles
our best disguises are all of the piles
of shit that we talk and talk
while everyone else just soaks and soaks.

Oh! What I'll know
when you get through to me.
We get to the party just to wait in the car
and watch all of the smokers clutter the yard.
The fleeting figures always take too long,
one's always just gotta hear her favorite song.
Another one says that I must be wrong.
They won't let me say what I mean,
and you can't get right through to me.