I woke up on a sofa in an unfamiliar house, surrounded by sleeping folks 
I didn't know. 
On failing to find my friends, 
I decided it was clearly time to go. 
So I made my way out of the door as quietly as 
I could - there was no one there 
I knew to say goodbye, 
Squinting in the sadly sobering sunshine of the 
Sunday morning light. 
I started the night with all my friends and 
I ended up alone. 
I started out so happy now 
I'm hungover and down. 
It was about then that 
I realized 
I was half-way through the best years of my life. 
I scanned the local landmarks, trying to find out where 
I was, and maybe even find a bus back home, 
Longing for a shower, and for clean sheets, and a charger for my phone. 
Suddenly it hit me - 
I got paid this 
Friday last, and so 
I rifled through my pockets for some change. 
But all I found was a packet of broken cigarettes and a sinking sense of shame. 
I had to ask myself: 
Is is really worth it? 
Is any of this worth it? 
Well the whole thing's far from perfect, 
But I've yet to figure out a better way to spend my time. 
Too many suits and dirty looks made me rack my brains - the real damage started to sink in. 
It'd been quite a heavy weekend and 
I could just about remember where 
I'd been. 
Well I started the night with all my friends and 
I ended up alone, 
I started out so happy now 
I'm hungover and down. 
I stood on a street corner and 
I felt a little sick. 
It was about then that 
I realized 
I was halfway through the first day of the week.