Through to Me

I don't go outside

because I can't control the environment.

And feeling's not quite the word.

And my eyes are dead

giveaways of how I spent today

emptying my pockets on countertops

of all the bars on the streets and blocks.

We came to the party to wait in the car

and watch all the smokers clutter the yard.

Twiddle your fingers back and forth

and write it all off like we've done before.

We can only stay for so long,

we've got plans that will be gone

by the time you get through to me.

Cigarettes and sleeping pills

and I wash it all down with black coffee.

Another working night with nonstop planning

what's it gonna be tonight?

We've got no substitute

for good and cheap substance abuse.

With blurry eyes and fucked up smiles

our best disguises are all of the piles

of shit that we talk and talk

while everyone else just soaks and soaks.

Oh! What I'll know

when you get through to me.

We get to the party just to wait in the car

and watch all of the smokers clutter the yard.

The fleeting figures always take too long,

one's always just gotta hear her favorite song.

Another one says that I must be wrong.

They won't let me say what I mean,

and you can't get right through to me.