Behind each drag of my cigarette, I think about the years that I've got left. And where I've gotten (not) so far, I try to drown out, sitting at the bar.
Thinking bout my friend that I just buried, and another who said that he's getting married. All the family drama that's going on, and this chick at the bar that I couldn't take home.
I'm Worried bout my job that's a piece of **** and how I don't have a thing if I ******* lost it.
Then there's this girl that's a perfect fit. Problem is, to her I don't exist.
Except that I do, but just a friend. And so I know will be my end. There's nothing new around the bend. I'd give it all for a chance to mend.
But that's not to be, as cracks run deep. I'd simply settle for some decent sleep. But sow as I may, I'll just never reap, for truth be told, they say I'm a creep.