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smell of the mop bucket, and i'm closing up alone i got some money in my jeans, but i wouldn't know where i'd go except an envelope in a box of letters bad taste in my mouth i been trying to forget and for some reason it just won't go away and everybody i know found themselves in the same mess just a-looking out the window, wondering where everybody went and the things that we've been doing to keep ourselves from getting bored it might seem we're doing all right, it ain't of our own accord my roommate's friends are coming over, but i'm sick of getting stoned cause i heard this town used to be cool before i was grown now it's just high brow places i can't afford to be people i don't wanna know cause they're all just rudes and cheaps how i wish they'd go away did you really think that sour face would get you anywhere? around here there ain't no way to do much of anything but watch your own decay it's just you and all the closing doors, and nothing speaks to us how come nothing speaks to us? From Letras Mania