WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE

Here we are, here we are,
In a busted stall with a Sharpie scar.
I wish we weren’t, you know I don’t.
It’s tomorrow now, and time to go.

The bartender just hollered last call,
And I’m starting to feel like an asshole
For bringing you here, getting you drunk
Just so I can see you look like you care

About what’s happening here.
Oh, lord, what’s happening here?
Can you hear me, lord? Can you hear me, lord?
Should I be sorry I never believed you more?
Well, now’s not the time to start.
There’s never a good time to start again.

What if I’m about to die,
Like I’m dying right now, and looking back on my life
As memories flash by in a cadence of light?
Would I turn blacks into white and truths into lies
Just to be who I’m not, but to make this all right?

I don’t know, I don’t know.
I don’t know any difference from home and the road.
I don’t know, I don’t know.
I don’t know what’s happening here anymore.
I don’t know what’s happening here anymore.

Oh, lord, what’s happening here?
Can you hear me, lord? Can you hear me, lord?
Should I be sorry I never believed you more?

If there’s hell, it may be the heaven I’m told exists
Or it may be blissful ignorance.
I don’t want to leave this bar
But I can’t stare at phone numbers and Sharpie scars anymore.
I don’t know what’s happening here anymore.
Oh, lord
Oh, lord

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