Reckless (Alone in the Passenger's Seat) - 11.3.01

Weakdays,
when it comes down to it,
are only your own lack
of self-resolve.

Weakdays,
you'll never make it through it,
the cure can't be the same,
and you can't fight fire with fire.

They say, "I'll try,
for once in my life,
to look my troubles
right in the eye."

Fallen victim to procession of time;
missed your window, now you're doin' lines.
My jaw drops at the chances you've wasted,
hopes and dreams bitterly neglected.
I know that it's hard on your own, but
you know that this isn't the answer.
Look inside, put away the hashpipe,
break your mirror, good luck forever.

Sitting stagnant in post-high-school waters,
stubborn insistence that nothing really matters.
Can't help but stare at the broken glass and
empty cups, metaphorically depressing.
Four years and you'll graduate, to a
stone diploma, just another statistic.
Put a stop to this self-destruction,
break your mirror, good luck forever.

Too much attention to the things that they say,
we both know that the needle's the wrong way.
Draw a line between dead and popular,
draw a line around the body on the floor.
I know that i'm "too dramatic",
I know that "nobody gets hurt",
and it's all just so convincing, but
there's a lack of evidence,
a lack of evidence,
lack of evidence,
lack of evidence.