It’s pretty late You’re standing across the room, talking to someone or something but I’m just here These are your friends after all But you look sad, like me Like usual
Someone’s pouring me a drink and I‘ve got that ichy feeling you get when you shouldn’t smoke your last cigarette But you know you will They say something to me and laugh
I’m sandwiched between a fantasy and crushing reality like beautiful ideas that become **** when you write them down on paper My feet are shaking, ready to move (anywhere) I am the inches of terrible terrible air Between the fruit on the tree and your fingertips (you, tied to the ground, like me)
You can shout all you like, Tantalus I know you You’re just like me We’ll never get anywhere We’re frozen assets We’re “get well soon” cards given out in the ******* cancer ward We’re racecars stuck in the mud
But what do I know? Why are we even here? Do we have anywhere else to go? I know it’s late 2:45 in the morning and raining But I’ve got a third a tank of gas and you’ve got that look in your eye let’s get the **** out of here.