Starting At An Ending

Counting down the days 'til I'm with you.

I cringe at words I say,

I'm swimming with the sharks the work week through,

So I'm drowning come Friday.

Reaching front door, turning on the radio, walking to the liquor store.

You're what I came here for, you're what I came here for.

But I've got nothing left - a couple bucks, some cigarettes.

I pick a day to say I'll quit, I'm filled with hope or full of shit.

It doesn't really matter where I look,

The directions seem the same.

I'm closing out my nights with Fante books.

If you're happy then why change.

Counting up what's left.

I let it ride on easy bets.

Once I traded in free will it got easy to keep still.

You're what I came here for, what's the point of anything