This Is Nowhere

We all sit on the curb

And we stare at the rain in our boots

The car, the clouds, the sky

While Ishmael wraps himself in the sheet again

He'll clench the fists and close his eyes

I don't know how many times

I can loan him my cigarettes

When I don't even know if he's alive

Do prophets lie?

It makes us feel less so purified

And my closet's filled with

All these endless accoutrements

These shoes, these scars

These shirts, these ties

And these things I say to make myself feel good again

I'll speak, I'll write, I'll laugh, I'll lie

I can't bear to sit here and drink myself sick again

Another night

When everything I know was just a lie

And I don't even know where I'll sleep tonight

I got nothing to do but stare at these walls

And take some time to screw my head on right

We all ended up alone, wasted here at Silver Lake

We'll work, we'll feed, we'll change, we'll try

I can't make any sense of this or you or anything

I'm wide awake, and all our parents lied

It's not alright, and all our words collide

Awake all night