Obsessed with my success and other people’s ages
Don’t need to tell you that I’m jaded
Stopping at a Waffle House off of 85
I haven’t moved an inch since I was seventeen
Maybe my gut’s a little bigger
And my shirts don’t fit right anymore
What’s the point of pushing on anymore?
I’m always tired, or maybe I’m always bored
I was told that I’d be fine when I got old
But now I’m thinking that’s a lie
So l down these fries before they get too cold

If I don’t feel love in the places I call home
Can I feel anything in general?
Is it me? Can I get through this?
Is there a way to wash it off, or is this stain permanent?

I watch my double descend into the Echo with me
He’s got a craft beer in one hand and a pocket full of Molly
Everyone’s always a few deep
They mash up pop songs I’ve never heard
But I know the melody
Now his hands are up in the air like everything’s a possibility
Fifteen years on and I still hate this
But I bet even he’d call me a friend
Because I’m the only one stuck living like this
Alone in my own head
I feel like ECT has corrupted my core memory
I’ve been here before, and I’ll be here when everybody goes

When I’m only waking up
Because the sun’s too strong for my cheap blinds
I head for for couch and think some day there’ll be a sign
Why can’t I act my age, or find a way to get to work?
To pay the rent on this dark space
Spruce it up and put some paint on the walls
Try to clean at least every other week
Unpack the boxes
Put away the mess eventually