I always thought i would find solace in an empty shot glass
But time makes sure that the troubles will pass
We roam the streets at night, that grand feeling of security in packs lowers our inhibitions
We loudly proclaim our first thoughts, but barely ever listen
In a state of inebriation we expose our true selves
A state of mind we often visit, one we know oh so well
A lack luster version of whom you admire?
Or your apprehensive self in new attire?
