Third Floor - Western Pacific

What am I doing here?

And who are all these people?

In less than half a year,

I’ll end up in a sinkhole,

Made up of bottles of liquor,

A living room full of all new strangers.

Every night is a struggle on it’s own

To get by, to get known.

Yet this is where I call home.

The sink smells like shit again,

And some jerk pulled a one night stand,

the same story every weekend.

A hangovers now the latest trend.

This place smells like alcohol,

and theres puke in the bathroom stall.

The nights just go on and on

But it’s all a blur when you’re so far gone.

What was your name again?

My fourth time but i can’t recall

a name to the face, but then,

did we ever really meet at all?

A thousand people in a small, packed room

I surfed the crowd just to get to you.

Maybe it’s bad time and placement,

but who knows, 'til you go.

Can’t grow if you don’t break the mold.

The sink smells like shit again,

And some jerk pulled a one night stand,

the same story every weekend.

A hangovers now the latest trend.

This place smells like alcohol,

and theres puke in the bathroom stall.

The nights just go on and on

But it’s all a blur when you’re so far gone.