I'm washed up at 21. You'll always say hi to me last
And the theory is if I avoid looking in your eyes, I'll avoid confronting my past
The longer I drink the less that I think but the closer I feel to alright
I've been at this game for a while it should be no surprise
Then you went upstairs to try and feel respected as I went downstairs where I felt neglected
Drunkenly determine what I think that goes on and why handling reality is always so hard
It was considerate of you to soften the blow by lying and saying you were going home
As you blur the divide that exists in my mind between paranoid delusions and real fucking life.