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|van hoose|
sixth and sixteenth with nothing to do, i'm sitting on the sidewalk thinking of you. twenty more minutes and you're running through my head, now i'm sitting and drinking alone again with one more streetlight left to roam, another drink i'll never find my way home trying not to get lost in misery as this town eats me up i can barely see so keep drinking till i can't hear a sound, because something inside's got me down again and i don't care what the your 12 steps say 'cause at the bottom of a bottle i'll find a brighter day
corner of the ave, sitting under a street lamp clutching on a bottle feeling happy again 1:50 comes early and I'm talking about beer sells laws like some kinda social opression grab another quart and i'm walking down the street again diving into bushes when the cops drive by, afraid for the future -- thinking getting drunk is some kind of freedom, what kind of solution is this? getting wasted is't living underground tragic things can happen when you're living this way acting like my self destruction somehow has meaning in the scheme of society here's a cheer to no regrets
and everything around me says that this is okay and everything inside me fails to ask "how does it all relate?" and all i can see is the cloud of insecurities that's cutting through the haze that makes up what is me