What’s Your 5-Year-Plan?

Every basement was a speakeasy
Where we’d stay up ‘til it got hard to speak
Then curl up on the cold concrete
In a coma or asleep

And you didn’t wake up for work ‘til you needed the money
And you didn’t need the money ‘til you needed more smokes
Or another case of shitty beer
Or to cover the cover at the door of the next show
Man, I miss having nothing to do and nowhere to go

And the band practiced five nights a week
And the songs were really coming together
And we had just bookеd a show with some Jersey band
Who wеre signed and sold their own merch

And it was our first chance to play
In front of more than just a couple of drunks for a change
But the amps blew out in the middle of the first verse

And we drove home in the van in total silence
But even then it never felt like we were losing hope
There would be more shows in more shit holes
Where no one but other shitty bands would ever go
But it was over for us and we were just the last to know

And at the start the summer
It felt like the start of something big
We were in it together
We were ready for anything
But by the end of the summer
Some of us went chasing something
Most of us were home by winter
But a few of us kept running