Another night in this waste of a thing called life
Another night of paper fun

Another night pretending we are friends
I need to know if this will ever end

Nothing more than substance and material
We get so **** high, we start to feel imperial

Looking down on the ones who are real
We mistake our highs, as the ability to feel

We know we wont amount to much, we know we wont go far
Our wasted lives are spent getting wasted at the bar

Feelings only come with the substances we consume
Together here we are, but so alone in this packed room