The evening

I get home from work
And I got nothing to say
But there is no one to talk to anyway

I sit on the couch
Deciding what to watch
Lean over, smoke, scratch my crotch

Guess I’m just tired
Of staring at a world through a glass
Where everything is meant for everyone else
Everyone has a price
But no not me
I’m passed my expiry date left on the shelf

I listen to the radio
Another murder, another political scam
Another red light, the car in front is slowing
I see these faces and I’m just another man


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