I'm here if you need me, but you're never here for me
I'm always your right hand, but you're never even one of my fingers
And here I am carried by the darkness that's surrounding me
Thinking of you, and I know that I'm not even the 100th station in your train of mind
Maybe I'm the 101, no not even
It's 2:30 am, waiting for the call from your friend to tell me where you're at
So I can come, pick you up
Tear your hand away from her perfectly sculpted waist
and bring you back home
and the cycle goes on
But not any fucking more
P.S Don't forget your brain near the alcohol bottles
What can I say, ugly habits die hard