A Post For Drunkards

I used to be a stereotype
Half alive with half open eyes
With a one track mind
And a flawed design
Feeling like I was lost at sea
At only the age of 19
Floating around in alcohol and apathy
Taking in too much caffeine and nicotine

If we make it outta here alive
Just say you won't look back to see
Just who we left behind (there might not be a next time)

With all the ups and downs and turn arounds
To the breaking up to breaking down
Yeah we were the ones to say (there might not be a next time)

I used to be a stereotype
Someone you'd never recognize
With fingers so yellow
That they matched the yellow skies
And there was a few things I memorized
From all those blurry times
Like bottles clinking under blinking signs
And a few last words from long lost friends of mine

If we make it out of here alive
Just say you won't look back to see
Just who we left behind (there might not be a next time)

With all the ups and downs and turn arounds
To the breaking up to breaking down
Yeah we were the ones to say (there might not be a next time)

After all the fuck ups and fallouts
With all the ups and downs and turn arounds
Through all the breaking up to breaking down
Yeah we were the ones to say
There might not be a next time (might not be a next time)

Words to live by:
we're all doing just fine

---AND---

i might as well just sleep it off
wishful thinking's got my wires crossed
when i am desperate and alone
i know i know i know how low i go

so i'll drive and disappear
and maybe if i'm luck by this time next year
no one i know will know my name
it's either change or go or i'll explode today
i'll leave a note on my machine
unplug the phone and finish packing all my things
i found a photograph of me
its been such a slow decay
day to day i don't even recognize my own face

i had another breakdown
and i'm floating face down
i might as well just sleep it off
wishful thinking's got my wires crossed
when i am desperate and alone
i know i know i know how low i go

i'm going to sleep it off
this sinking feeling of always feeling lost
hasn't been that long
six years worth of always being wrong
i met an old friend out on the street
trade stories and out of date memories
and she has a photograph of me it's been such a slow decay day to day
did we seem much happier in those days

its been a slow decay
day to day i don't even recognize my face