Four Year Shelf Life

I'm sick, so sick of being here again, where I always wind up in the end.

A place I know so well, that certain special kind of hell

When the product can no longer sell, you take it off the shelf.

Now total strangers treat me warmer, cant catch your eye

A potted plant shoved in the corner waiting to die

And all those midnight rides to be left for a bottle of new life.

Brought together by identity, separated by a lack of empathy

It's such a tragic star-crossed fate that it finally was too late

When we learned to communicate.

Brought together by shared empathy, separated by addictive tendencies

A violent tectonic shift, the foundation has been split, and we know it,

And I'm so fucking sick

So sick of being here again, where I always wind up in the end.

A place I know so well, that certain special kind of hell where the product can no longer sell.

So have fun being fucking ordinary.

We were misfits from the start, but you've given up the art.

One needs a new liver and the other a new heart.

I hate to tell you friend, I'd have gone with you to the end,

So have fun being ordinary.