I wear the same clothes for days at a time.   I've got the weight of a washing machine on my mind   with the whole world bouncing around inside of it.      And as I talk about doomsday and bands,   I'm letting the chance of a lifetime just slip through my hands   and land on the floor by the bed that I'm lying in.      I'm having trouble with sleeping again.   I turn to the stack of books that all my friends recommend,   but I can't even focus on the lines, let alone what's between them.      So I surrender and watch some TV   and just feel ashamed of myself for giving into complacancy,   breaking the two packs a day mark days ago.      And I finally paid off the van then I bought    a new car with better gas mileage than the van got   but I know I'm financing a war fought for greed and bravado.   I know where my taxes go   while my taxes know nothing about me.      My roommate's boyfriend's a nice enough guy   but still I dread when he's here and I have to say "hi"   even though our conversations never go on much beyond it.      I don't know when I first got this way.   I think that I used to be someone with something to say,   but for the first time in my life, I feel more lonely than anything.      Because I know people my age with children   and I know people my age with husbands and wives,   even more people my age with high paying jobs,   even more people my age with miserable lives.   So it's they that I take shelter under    and let laundry nor loan payments ever put asunder   but help me stay happy inside of these four smoke-stained walls,   waiting for someone to call,   as I'm waiting to just disappear.