I made it, body past midnight
Menthols in the cold, the high life
In every section you peeled off to go home
And I'm the last one to guide
I'm speaking quietly to myself
With you up on my shelf
And drawing a little match
And I'm still stuck in the same routines
Two aisles, one is down
I once was president and you were the class clown
I must've believed I was going to succeed
But then something made me shrivel up and shut down
Bright calm of the streetlight
You bury me
Am I supposed to feel a rush of relief
Unearthed motion fell to bricks
I caught a glimpse of what I was wasting
What I, what I was wasting, what, what, what
In the heat of the night
Verifying facts and lies
Turn it over in my mind
Disintegrating in the light
