Making reservations at fancy resuarants.
Dining out, eating in. 
Cable cars in the night, borrow other's... help a brother out.

We group up, we can't go through this alone.
Pairs of two's & three's & four's.

Thump along with your pearly whites.
Glossy liver transplantation disease.
Greased white hair, hairline receding.
Pimples glistening in the noon-day sun.

Raise up a glass & drink to The Man.
He makes it happen, the Man with the Plan.
Remember those times.
Boat drinks & frilly little cotton-white panties.
Grabbin' itty-bitty titty out behind the schoolyard.
Pants, wet with seaman, ready to bulge.
Wet dreams in the night, more jack-off dreams in the day.

Sitting at the old diner.
Friends pull you in.
You'd die without them, but they're killing you.
"Just try this... it won't hurt, you'll like it.
Got it from the black boy down the street.
All the niggers are doing it these days."

Everything speeds up.  Time, all the time in the world.
But it's passing by at a phenomenal rate.
You reach to slow things down, but can't.
Why?  Where have the little things gone to?
Why is the cellar door closed?  What is under there?

Then you see him.  You're White Knight, of sorts.
He shows you what you don't want to see.
He shows you The Way.  The way down in the hole.

Broke, depressed, despair all around... is this what you signed up for?
You can't feel your hands anymore.  Or your feet.
The tracks look worse & worse.
You had promised yourself, but what the hell?
You've let everyone else down, why not yourself, too?
You claw at the walls... eat crackers & cold porridge.
You light it up.
"Just one more time, then i'm done."

You're in a room now - all white - sitting in a pool of blood.
"I feel fine!  Why am i here?  Who are you people?"