On the couch, barely staying awake, feeling something eating away at you Just sitting wasting time because it seems there's never anything else to do And when you finally get up and go, all you can do is drink yourself to a breaking point And then you puke and you're at a starting line again And it always seems the same It's like nothing will ever change A lot of weight is about all I can gain If I ever make it anywhere, wonder if I'll see a reason to care I'll probably keep groaning that nothing's fair You keep on complaining and complaining more, even though you've got a lot going your way But when you're feeling so empty inside, then a lot, it really means nothing anyway A bottle is the only thing worth opening Right now it all just seems to s** "Where will you be a year from now?" With no ambition, a question like that can't mean much I'll probably keep telling myself nothing's fair, 'cause nothing ever seems fair This isn't fair