We all sit on the curbnAnd we stare at the rain in our bootsnThe car, the clouds, the skynWhile Ishmael wraps himself in the sheet againnHe'll clench the fists and close his eyesnI don't know how many timesnI can loan him my cigarettesnWhen I don't even know if he's alivenDo prophets lie?nIt makes me feel less horrifiednnAnd my closet's filled with nAll these endless accoutrementsnThese shoes, these scarsnThese shirts, these tiesnAnd these things I say to make myself feel good againnI'll speak, I'll write, I'll laugh, I'll lienI can't bear to sit here and drink myself sick againnAnother nightnWhen everything I know was just a lie nAnd I don't even know where I'll sleep tonightnnI got nothing to do but stare at these wallsnAnd take some time to screw my head on rightnWe all ended up alone, wasted here at Silver LakenWe'll work, we'll feed, we'll change, we'll trynI can't make any sense of this or you or anythingnI'm wide awake, and all our parents liednIt's not alright, and all our words collidenAwake all night