another bullet fired into the heart of saturday night, saw a lot of lonely faces tonight, asking questions only bottles can answer. . .i was quiet, i learned to stop asking the hard questions if you really don't want to hear the answer. . .of course i have a headfull of answers, open honest and hurtfully realistic--not always good or wanted.
these are the words we chase, they thin the blood and leave you heady--then we act to poison ourselves, to dilute the message behind hang overs and the stagger stroll we take to the empty arms of home. . .
no more excuses, now the alcohol can be honest back-- no more hiding behind the label or the shot or the dizziness. . . this is what sobbering up brings. . .
somedays, when i sit at the end of the bar and watch people around me, i am sorry i left the party--now i'm just a guest, no longer a regular, no longer memorable, and no longer the you they called me.
night soundtrack: elliot smith xo; roxy music avalon; freedy johnston this perfect world; tom waits heartattack and vine; rolling stones let it bleed; stevie wonder talking book
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