Took a walk down the street to that familiar bar
Sat down on an old wooden stool in the middle
No one else around, just me and the glasses
Somewhere between the drinks I noticed it
Unhappy hour, on my own last call
Spent so much time waiting for another me
Just to carry me through another dragging day
Like being me is just not the way to be
But that can't be true, there's some answer
The clock only says half past eight
But my weary mind says three days past life
Mumbling as I turn from my broken bar stool
With the smell of cheap liquor on my breath
Why not take a chance for once? Change the stars.
The open door looks miles away, but it comes up quick
Why shouldn't I use the number she gave me?
Let the phone ring, ring until she answers
Until her soft voice fills my ears with sweet nothing
Can't she tell that I'm crumbling down?
But still, I'll be her statue, forever engraved
Written in the language of love
But battered by the ever-present elements
I can't fathom how long this simple rock will last
