I don't go outside because I can't control the environment. 
And feeling's not quite the word. 
And my eyes are dead giveaways of how I spent today 
emptying my pockets on countertops of all the bars on the streets and blocks. 
We came to the party to wait in the car and watch all the smokers clutter the yard. 
Twiddle your fingers back and forth and write it all off like we've done before. 
We can only stay for so long, 
We've got plans that will be gone by the time you get through to me. 
Cigarettes and sleeping pills - and I wash it all down with black coffee. 
We've got no substitute for good and cheap substance abuse. 
With blurry eyes and fucked up smiles - our best disguises are all of the piles of shit 
that we talk and talk while everyone else just soaks and soaks. 
Oh! What I'll know when you get through to me. 
We get to the party just to wait in the car and watch all of the smokers clutter the yard.
The fleeting figures always take too long, one's always just gotta hear her favorite song. 
Another one says that I must be wrong. 
They won't let me say what I mean, and you can't get right through to me.