The Northside, The L&L and Any Number of Crappy Apartments - The Lawrence Arms

Snow piled on tables, up on scales, into bags.

Late night beer and smoke, too sleepy and awake.

Crazy eyes over eggs, crazy eyes like mine,

Cloths from a streetcart, too much beer for the time at hand.

Night time passed by me again.

Phone calls that should never be made.

Phone calls that speed last night into today.

So, where will you be in ten years?

This is the part where you don’t stay right here.

Smoking pain’s a pang beneath the left ribcage.

Gasping idle breathing,

Burning to these thoughts of leaving.

Was it cold hands gripping fears

Of being all alone

In the world when I got there?

I’m choking in my sleep.

Fostered aching tension,

Demented bruised inventions.

Unbelievable, burnt out and seasonal.

And I’ve been saying this for years.

Packing bags, not cleaning all of last night’s empty beers.

A war of words waged by the faithless.

Screaming in deep sleep.

Unjustifiable stagnation

So where will I be in ten years?

Hopefully I won’t be here.

Nose and eyes betray

You never did believe me

Under my own skin

This is the part where you don’t stay,

This is the part where you don’t stay