I'm never gonna fall asleep quite right. I'm a blanket on a cold, white floor—fluorescent-ly bored. I'm up scanning Craigslist for apartments For the reasons my friends smoke weed, minus the release. You're hell-bent on wasting the primes of your lives Just fucking hanging out in different cities. And I'm up with a theory pinned on my wall— The red string circumscribes green-lighting a vice, but not quite. Insomnia's not cool anymore. The lights are on, you can't brag about being bored. Insomnia's never been cool before. The light's are on, everyone knows you're torn.