Counting down the days 'til I'm with you. 
I cringe at words I say, 
I'm swimming with the sharks the work week through, 
So I'm drowning come Friday. 

Reaching front door, turning on the radio, walking to the liquor store. 
You're what I came here for, you're what I came here for. 
But I've got nothing left - a couple bucks, some cigarettes. 
I pick a day to say I'll quit, I'm filled with hope or full of shit. 

It doesn't really matter where I look, 
The directions seem the same. 
I'm closing out my nights with Fante books. 
If you're happy then why change. 

Counting up what's left. 
I let it ride on easy bets. 
Once I traded in free will it got easy to keep still. 
You're what I came here for, what's the point of anything