$8 beer night

I'm scared to death of being useless
So hold my head and hold my pen
Write a song they won't forget and get me through this
I'm scared to death that I might care a little bit
That I might actually give a shit
About the things I said
And canvas that I wasted

I know that something's wrong
We've known it all along
We're trading time for what we mean
Instead of trading lies for calm and rationality
Not used to this, not used to me
Not used to getting used for what it is I really need

I'm sick and tired of wasting time on little screens
Forgetting what it really means to be a fucking human being
Now I'm desensitized, anesthetized
To wrong and right and black and white
And I'll never get it right
I know I'll never get the words out fucking right

And all the sick shit that you see
On barricades on city streets
And on the faces on tv
It's fucking burning up, and I just can't let it be