Another boring story de The Lawrence Arms

Displacement, the basement, isolation commented
relented six stairs down naked bulb, tired lungs
tired eyes, crooked thumbs not up but sideways
for now
the rise and fall and gentle drops
precipitation never stops
i pulled the clouds inside me and now it's raining again
cried in my sleep last night for the first time
dying while i live, living where we die
futility abounds six feet deep within the coffee grounds.
there ashtrays are volcanoes now
apartments burn in red and brown
salt the earth and never grow
notice ashes look like snow falling
and just sitting there, more trash than the county fair
the smell of crowds, a burning nose
a smell familiarly morose
half-assed attempt only to fail
half-assed reflection, ghostly pale
you're waving while i disappear -- ashes cementing my fear