I must have felt nice when I walked in the room thinking I could come out with you on my sleeve.
I must have felt fly when I introduced my thoughts on how you and I would leave.
It could have been right hadn't I decided to cross my legs on that empty seat.
On side where the bartender's eyes could see my glass when it was in need.
Oh I hate it when it's me, and it's every other week.
Oh I hate this memory, stumbling, mumbling 'stead of walkin', talkin'.
-"Beast Mode (Grey Grenade)"