Scherbatsky - Snowing

Did Bukowski ever drink enough?

Did Ayn Rand ever write enough?

Is my life too totally fucked?

I might go, and then I’m bummed out

Yeah, these are things I contemplate

As I sit alone in bed all day

Without a job to pay my loans and I think

That I know that I can’t help that

So much lost potential

I’m not leaving

I’m not ready

I can’t wait to be alone again

It’s ridiculous

But I still sit around and wonder

Is it better off

That me and all my friends

Stay inside and criticize

And drink enough to make up

For the new year

And every new year

I know I can’t help that

So much lost potential

I’m not leaving

I’m not ready

I can’t wait to be alone again