Something draws me out on Wednesday nights....
You're working til close and i'm sitting home alone.
I hate drinking, and I hate that I drink way too much on Wednesdays
And always, sitting there at a barbooth, listening to really bad karaoke,
I think things.
I contemplate things that one should never think of in that state of mind,
Things that just depress me
Yes, i can be one of those suicidal drunks,
But not the kind that is all depressed and brings down the mood of the crowd...
I'm the kind who smiles all fake and sings all the louder,
But silently, deep down, crumbles under it all.
Its sad, to note the time that is spent picking out the perfect outfit,
Getting my hair just right
Making sure my eyelashes curl, and my lipstick shines
Only to know that you won't notice, or say anything
So the only compensation i get is some second glances or slurred comments from a bunch of strangers...
And yet, somehow satisfying, when i can bring myself to settle for it.
The biggest thrill of my Wednesdays is singing with this cute little lead singer in a punk band,
Who makes everyone's head turn when he sings,
And he sings with me, who gets increasingly horrible with each shot he buys
And still, there is all this unspoken conversation between us,
And even though i'm compelled to play this charade every week,
I still feel guilty, because he doesn't fill your shoes,
And its just an attention thing - a smile, an innuendo, a brush past --
Yet still its more than you and i laying in a bed ignoring each other (or rather, you ignoring me)
Every night
And sometimes the temptation is almost more than i can bear,
And i have to get up from the barstool and politely say goodnight
Before i can possibly blush anymore
And he always gives me this disappointed look, but knows i will be back the following week,
To play cat and mouse again.
And...
is there a point??
Surely there is more to this life than just these games we play,
For a moment's thrill, a night's fantasy
And its so hard to look you in the eye at the end of the night,
Even though i haven't done anything to be ashamed of,
I still feel like, I shouldn't want these things from anyone but you,
It's just that, sometimes it gets really tiring,
Always always wanting something that you never want to give....
And its not just about sex anymore,
Its about a kiss for no reason... a compliment on trying to look good for you.... a meaningful conversation instead of being engrossed in some film.
I just want the gap filled,
So that all these little things that seem so trivial,
yet are so essential,
can be something real instead of just fantasized.
Are WE real?
Aren't WE something?
You're working til close and i'm sitting home alone.
I hate drinking, and I hate that I drink way too much on Wednesdays
And always, sitting there at a barbooth, listening to really bad karaoke,
I think things.
I contemplate things that one should never think of in that state of mind,
Things that just depress me
Yes, i can be one of those suicidal drunks,
But not the kind that is all depressed and brings down the mood of the crowd...
I'm the kind who smiles all fake and sings all the louder,
But silently, deep down, crumbles under it all.
Its sad, to note the time that is spent picking out the perfect outfit,
Getting my hair just right
Making sure my eyelashes curl, and my lipstick shines
Only to know that you won't notice, or say anything
So the only compensation i get is some second glances or slurred comments from a bunch of strangers...
And yet, somehow satisfying, when i can bring myself to settle for it.
The biggest thrill of my Wednesdays is singing with this cute little lead singer in a punk band,
Who makes everyone's head turn when he sings,
And he sings with me, who gets increasingly horrible with each shot he buys
And still, there is all this unspoken conversation between us,
And even though i'm compelled to play this charade every week,
I still feel guilty, because he doesn't fill your shoes,
And its just an attention thing - a smile, an innuendo, a brush past --
Yet still its more than you and i laying in a bed ignoring each other (or rather, you ignoring me)
Every night
And sometimes the temptation is almost more than i can bear,
And i have to get up from the barstool and politely say goodnight
Before i can possibly blush anymore
And he always gives me this disappointed look, but knows i will be back the following week,
To play cat and mouse again.
And...
is there a point??
Surely there is more to this life than just these games we play,
For a moment's thrill, a night's fantasy
And its so hard to look you in the eye at the end of the night,
Even though i haven't done anything to be ashamed of,
I still feel like, I shouldn't want these things from anyone but you,
It's just that, sometimes it gets really tiring,
Always always wanting something that you never want to give....
And its not just about sex anymore,
Its about a kiss for no reason... a compliment on trying to look good for you.... a meaningful conversation instead of being engrossed in some film.
I just want the gap filled,
So that all these little things that seem so trivial,
yet are so essential,
can be something real instead of just fantasized.
Are WE real?
Aren't WE something?
