there’s something about this crowdnand i don’t see it going awaynsomething in the drinks perhapsncause they’re wearing their heartache on their facesnyeah they’re eating each other up off of their platesnni look up to the sky then to my feetni close my eyes and realize it’s a mystery to menand everyone’s drawing lines on the floornyelling this is me and that is you and this is warnnclosed eyes and acceptance of what is seennafter all this room is the way things are supposed to bennand what do i get for hanging aroundna thousand stories to laugh or cry aboutnand everyone is falling in love so easilynnand everyone in here is half asleepni think maybe if i just close my eyes life will be a dreamnand the walls are heavy with layers of paintnthe carpeting, the wood paneling and thick window panesntricks, tint, smoke mirrors and broken glassnthe heavy dressings of our oh so heavy pastnnand this is what i get for sticking aroundna million stories to laugh and cry aboutnand everyone is giving in so easily tonightnthis is worth the fight.