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You're hard tonight.
The teeming life of those excusing cocaine use on Thursday nights explodes from bars into swerving cars and all the while you ask yourself just who you are.
I knew you when you went to shows and had more pins than a cushion.
Now you work at some vaguely purposed startup and spend your weekends spinning Best New Music tracks and not calling girls back.
So tell me, man: Is this what you wanted?
Did you get what you wanted?
Stricken of meaning by sickening evenings.
Is this what you wanted?
Your all boys' school where you learned to fool around helps you overcompensate when you're feeling down.
Years of acne cream and fever dreams cut the courage from you like a laser beam.
I knew you when you had a poster of Katie Holmes in your room because you thought she was the kind of girl who might realistically like you if you play your cards right.
Where's that shoddy hope tonight?
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