First Responders

([?] is lost, dear friend, get out, dear friend, cuttlefish)

A-one, a-two, a-three, and four
Oh my god, have I heard that before

My friends think I'm depressed
Logic says its apathy
Dictionary reads hopeless
I call it confusion

I’m here alone playin' guitar when I could be in your arms
But that's only a good [?] when I’m trapped in my delusion

Every hour I have pondering in my ideal of affection
While I sit and wonder through and ideal isolation
Old change into new, when there's nothing more to do
And right now, I'm not in the mood for a consumed consolation

And everyone stayed sober until nothing left was kosher
A stereotype finally settled in
Fill the day with entropy, dissociate your disease
Any fine that satisfies your grit

And everybody waits their turn for their heart to burn day-long for the void
And if you think for now that you are fine, you're right, but wait just a minute boy
You need you're allotted thrills, even though that's what's killin' you
And if you go in, they’ll be callin’ to the first responders to the third floor bathroom