There's another three minutes out there somewhere
There's another six a.m. alarm waking up some sick victim out there
And here we stand, making sense of the words we used to use
And here we fall, when the things we used to say mean nothing at all
Running out of wisdom to put behind that stupid little decision
Making fun out of the little sun that bounces off of your eyes
I thought what I did would make you smile
But now we're a small thing called broken
There's another glue stick waiting to paste up a billboard somewhere
There's another Friday night just waiting to be wasted out there
And here we stand, thinking about what we did with that Friday night
And here we fall, when the reasons we used to have run out of use
