The cigarettes you smoke linger on your clothes.
You're with pretty people
So you don't have to be alone
You say you're not afraid of death but it still makes you cry
You wake up and drink black coffee
Read the paper a day late
There're messages on the machine
But you don't care what they say
The sun shines outside.
But you lock up your doors
Sit inside and question
If there's something more
Than what we have become.