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    Endless evenings of non-exist

    Are getting shorter, monotonous

    Like an intruder, I belong outside

    Although I find myself right back

    The same place I was before

    Saying things I'd say once more

    There's no reason for me to be here, no

    I feel so lonesome, surrounded by friends

    Who are talking about me, saying things I could care less about

    This dialogue is without

    Worth, content, significance

    Conversational ambivalence

    Hear the same things every night, it just ain't right

    I'm not the one to hold the bag

    Give me something I can sink my teeth into

    Show me a time, tell me a story

    That I haven't heard a million times before

    I pass out from boredom

    As I watch the people pass

    I see moments in their lives, nothing fascinating

    Are we all living for the past, never realizing

    We're clinging to an empty bag

    Lacking content, significance

    Conversational ambivalence

    Say the same thing every night, it just ain't right

    We'll see who's left holding the bag

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