Get Dressed, Do Nothing

Well, I am pretty bored. No school anymore, my friends around the neighborhood are giving me the cold shoulder, the work around the house depends on things besides my motivation. Finally, and perhaps worst of all, my left forearm an fret hand are sore - dear god let it not be tendonitis - so I can't play guitar at all. It is this kind of restless boredom that inspired this:

Holes in sheet-rock beaten in rage, want that power but I'm too afraid

To escape these four walls, nowhere to go but down the hall

No one to call, nothing to say, that you haven't heard a hundred better ways

Putting on my finest clothes, all dressed up, nowhere to go

And I want to say something so true

It drives the hook right on through

But I stumble on my words again

The truth is so damn hard to bend

Flip on the tube just to see what I'm missing out on the street

It's nothing much I'd care to do if I can't spend that time with you

And I want to say something so true

I've not atoned for my crimes except to write these rhymes

But it sounds good, to me, a better waste of time than sleep

I want to say something so true

So why can't I even try to drag myself outside?

Into the sun, have some fun, before it all comes undone

'Cause when I come out, all about, I see the shadow of your doubt

Stalking the streets, haunting our sleep, like the ghost I was born to be

I want to say something so true

It drives the hook right on through

But I stumble on my words again

Oh no, I lost another friend