Where will you be when the pity party comes crashing down on me
Bogged down by discretion and taste
Ensnared in consciousness, what a waste
Hell bent on getting bent out of shape
Bored into a stiff, sulking in fits
Nobody's had a drink but you've already killed the buzz
Now that we know that you're a joke
We can laugh at what you lack
In death and decay we all look the same
So save your pretense for the grave
Good days breed bittersweet memories
The gutter hasn't reached its quota yet
Hard set on hard times yet to come
You can't blame your failure on anyone
You're young and you're wild but you're not free
Pressed into pretense trapped in trivialities
Mince words until you've had your fill
Of deafening discretion laced with condescension
Pull the trigger so the night lives on
The taste of discernment washed down
By illusions of ecstasy and backhanded empathy
Testing the tolerance of a fools sympathy
You seem to forget a man's home is his casket
So get in line for a chance at some wasted time
Neck deep in deeds done cheap
But you don't have to sow what you reap
You only lie to yourself
When you pride yourself
On the life that you've undone
And the mess that you've become

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