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the bag
endless evenings of non exist
are getting shorter, monotonous
like an intruder, i belong outside
but still i find myself right back
the same place i was before
saying things i'd say once more
there's no reason for me to be here now
i feel so lonesome surrounded by friends
who are talking at me and saying things
i could care less about
this dialogue is without
worth, content, significance
conversational ambivalence
hear the same things every night
it just ain't right
we'll see who's left holding the bag
give me something i can sink my teeth into
show me a time, tell me a story
i haven't heard a million times before
i pass out from boredom
as i watch the people pass
i see moments in their lives
nothing fascinating
are we all living for the past
never realizing
we're clinging to an empty bag
lacking content, significance
conversational ambivalence
say the same things every night
it just ain't right
we'll see who's left holding the bag
