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The morning after the night before
Strewn pizza boxes cover the dirty floor
as do half full cans of cola, we couldn't drink much more
the vodka bottles empty, or maybe full of air
clothes stacked into a pile, tossed without a care
I hear the fuzz of static from the TV on the shelf
the vomit on the bedsheets, never cared much for my health
CD's out of cases, some broken into parts
paper in the trash can, that's where inspiration starts
The party long since over, we've all had our fill
of the evening that has left us, kept us bitter still.
