With a soul so blue, it's indigo, and on a night like tonight, where festivities run hot, I've been given a great chance to see just what life could be...
With breasts spilling out and beer flowing and passing around, I decide to venture into typical fun as per my co-workers. The girls were dressed in corset excuses for costumes, the guys dressed as everything, most with twice to three times more clothes on than the girls. The scent of mild cigarettes hung in the air. Music playing so loud that it denoted urgency.
And I feel worse now than I did before, with any form of happiness seduced into the air like all those carcinogens. There was no fun at that party, there's no fun at any party: just bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Just a bunch of cunts, standing around and drinking their clothes off.
When people ask me what I do and I say, "nothing really...I mean, I live a very mundane life..." I know I'm better off as I am than as they are because as they are just isn't who I am.
But, then again, who am I?
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