The Cycle

 I am no different than those before me

This is a long line of sitting in a room and talking in circles

We imagine a better world and then drink on the weekdays

I go home smelling like cigarettes and it feels like a warm embrace

We probably uttered these same words this time last year

Maybe that one song was right but it doesn't make me feel any better

I'm stuck in the goo beneath my feet

It smelled oh so sweet

I'll just become like those before me