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{No it's seven so it's five hours before 1998 |
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Here's the song |
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And the last time |
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IOne two three, one two three} |
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Contrast and compare between the busy ones |
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And the ones that don't care |
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Until there is no one that you really know |
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So I drift through these days |
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Of appointments and promises made |
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They'll all end up broken and quickly replaced |
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Weeks are slow, days drag on |
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Even practice and parties seem long |
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But I found myself going |
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I guess there's nothing to do, oh well |
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Group of kids, line of cars |
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More will show up after the bars close |
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There's this boredom that drowns everything |
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Bottles break, music plays |
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Conversations competing for space |
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I look for a corner or a quieter room |
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There's no heat(There's no heat) |
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In this house(In this house) |
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I can't breath with these words in my mouth |
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But I'm not going to say them |
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Yea, I've made that mistake before |
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On the stairs, she grabs my arm |
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Says, "Whats up, where you been, is something wrong?" |
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I try to just smile and say everything's fine |
