Counting down the days 'til I'm with you.
I cringe at words I say,
I'm swimming with the sharks the work week through,
So I'm drowning come Friday.
Reaching front door, turning on the radio, walking to the liquor store.
You're what I came here for, you're what I came here for.
But I've got nothing left - a couple bucks, some cigarettes.
I pick a day to say I'll quit, I'm filled with hope or full of shit.
It doesn't really matter where I look,
The directions seem the same.
I'm closing out my nights with Fante books.
If you're happy then why change.
Reaching front door, turning on the radio, walking to the liquor store.
You're what I came here for, you're what I came here for.
But I've got nothing left - a couple bucks, some cigarettes.
I pick a day to say I'll quit, I'm filled with hope or full of shit.
Counting up what's left.
I let it ride on easy bets.
Once I traded in free will it got easy to keep still.
You're what I came here for.
What's the point of anything?