Obsessed with my success and other people’s ages Don’t need to tell you that I’m jaded Stopping at a Waffle House off of 85 I haven’t moved an inch since I was seventeen Maybe my gut’s a little bigger And my shirts don’t fit right anymore What’s the point of pushing on anymore? I’m always tired, or maybe I’m always bored I was told that I’d be fine when I got old But now I’m thinking that’s a lie So l down these fries before they get too cold If I don’t feel love in the places I call home Can I feel anything in general? Is it me? Can I get through this? Is there a way to wash it off, or is this stain permanent? I watch my double descend into the Echo with me He’s got a craft beer in one hand and a pocket full of Molly Everyone’s always a few deep They mash up pop songs I’ve never heard But I know the melody Now his hands are up in the air like everything’s a possibility Fifteen years on and I still hate this But I bet even he’d call me a friend Because I’m the only one stuck living like this Alone in my own head I feel like ECT has corrupted my core memory I’ve been here before, and I’ll be here when everybody goes When I’m only waking up Because the sun’s too strong for my cheap blinds I head for for couch and think some day there’ll be a sign Why can’t I act my age, or find a way to get to work? To pay the rent on this dark space Spruce it up and put some paint on the walls Try to clean at least every other week Unpack the boxes Put away the mess eventually