Pour me another and ignore my brother

I break the soil going either way, never one to speak highly of myself. 

i'm always worried. awkwardly comfortable in situations of existence, 

waiting for the day i know everything will be alright. 

my band of friends can't go a day without saying the a-word, understand? 

mr. Barney could easily put out a box set, and mr. Berg needs to sleep.

i need to quit this job in order to attain my sanity, 

i've had a taste of the good life 

and have built an addiction to something out of my reach. 

now i'm a fiend for, a fiend for, a fiend for what?

orchestrating another's opus and forming it into mine, 

i'm waiting for the sun to not waste an ounce of time. 

i had to return home to realize i wasn't suffering from homesickness at all, 

it was all inside my mind. 

it took a graduation to help me grasp my own. 

"it's really not that bad." i understand now what mr. squire spoke of. 

in hopes of being in a better mood, 

i listen to music every single morning on my way to hell, it's quite a ride. 

surrounded by those i'll never be like, 

i think that it's learning my experience. 

so as my mind flies by, i reach out and grasp it. 

i still wake up wishing i could play guitar, 

and that will always happen until i end this vicious cycle. 

until then, i'll find solitude in this pen 

and in the dollar bins across the plains of excitement. 

kicking myself, standing on the edge with a dumb look on, snapping out of it, 

asking, "what was i thinking?" 

kicking myself, standing on the edge with a dumb look on, snapping out of it,

asking, "what are you doing?" 

kicking myself, standing on the edge with a dumb look on, snapping out of it, 

asking, "where are you going?" 

kicking myself, standing on the edge with a dumb look on, snapping out of it, 

asking, "why?"