These old floorboards are working overtime
From the weight of the bodies shuffling, standing in line
For a drink that satisfies our otherwise mundane lives
Out on the porch, I breathe out a heavy sigh
Blocking out sub-bass frequencies
I stumble back into the hall, afraid of what meet me
The air feels like the Everglades; bursting at the seams
But the floor is weak, I convince myself I have to leave
'Cause this old house is not meant for me
A friend comes out and says, Hey man, is everything alright
Just come inside and have a drink and try to just relax for a while
I grab a cup and pour myself a drink of something I don't know
I resign myself to standing by the back window
I sip my drink and stare at enigmatic dancing queens
Locking eyes with ones that resurrect a Monet landscape dream
She wanders over to me
I recall all of my training and ask, How have you been
I'd like to say I did the best I could, but I went home alone to sleep
And I sleep, and I sleep, and I sleep and I sleep
I sleep and I sleep, and I sleep
I've got nowhere to be
