We all sit on the curb   And we stare at the rain in our boots   The car, the clouds, the sky   While Ishmael wraps himself in the sheet again   He'll clench the fists and close his eyes   I don't know how many times   I can loan him my cigarettes   When I don't even know if he's alive   Do prophets lie?   It makes me feel less horrified      And my closet's filled with    All these endless accoutrements   These shoes, these scars   These shirts, these ties   And these things I say to make myself feel good again   I'll speak, I'll write, I'll laugh, I'll lie   I can't bear to sit here and drink myself sick again   Another night   When everything I know was just a lie    And I don't even know where I'll sleep tonight      I got nothing to do but stare at these walls   And take some time to screw my head on right   We all ended up alone, wasted here at Silver Lake   We'll work, we'll feed, we'll change, we'll try   I can't make any sense of this or you or anything   I'm wide awake, and all our parents lied   It's not alright, and all our words collide   Awake all night