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 me feel less horrified 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