Asual acquaintances because time just won’t allow
I can see their disappointed faces in the crowd
Beauty is the Lure trouble at the rod
I don’t need another chicken in the pot

I seem to always find myself wondering how I’m here again
I can never clear a space without some mess finding its way in
People love to talk until they’re finally sure I’m somewhat interested
I spend my time wondering how they can’t tell I’m not listening

No I’m not listening
Too many things to do with nothing good to say just more clouds on a sunny day
Liquor is the Lure trouble at the rod
Tell myself one more then I hit the rock