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There's nothing less cool than feeling exhausted |
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From hours of not doing a damn thing at all |
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Not thrilling to chill, steal bandwidth and cable |
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Give shouts to employers and wait for the call |
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There's a light shining out from the windowsill |
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Not content to project all day long |
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Maybe I could walk a little to the library... closed |
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Maybe I could do this right for once, get my ducks in a row |
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And just stop talking trash or whatever they say |
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Make the bed, sweep the floor, shake the carpet and spray |
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Put my shit in a pile, on the top slap a post-it |
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Don't worry, someday your skill set will be wanted |
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But today everybody is a little tired |
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It's Wednesday |
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So at 10:00, I'm walking down a chilly Boerum |
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To Broadway |
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And it's you and me and a tall boy of Colt 45 or Bud Light |
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What's the cheapest one? |
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Get through one more night, I drink fast, I don't savor |
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Each way takes an hour and at 12:00 I'll be gone |
