Social obligation, feeling brave.
We flock like herds of sheep.
Awkward conversations, an optimist's grave,
Another night to struggle to sleep.

We gather like rats at a hole in the wall,
Drawn in by the droning of the beat.
I question why we can't resist the call,
When it's failure we are doomed to repeat.

Smile and pretend, laugh at the hollow pit inside,
Fill your soul with whiskey disguised as hope.
But on the floor, there's nowhere to hide.
So you take another drink and hope.

And when the lights come on at the end of the night,
You look more lost than ever before.
Because deep down you know you're right.
And that everyone inside is empty at their core.