If we're having so much fun, how come I'm crying every Monday?
Is it just to cancel out the laughter from Thursday 'til Sunday?
I spend the next two days in bed and wonder what it's all about
and when I start to feel okay I know it's time to go back out
I've had the same look on my face for the last two lonely years.
Twenty-four months of bargain pills, cheeky lines and stolen beers.
In all the pictures that I've got, my eyes are so black and wide
and if you look long enough you'll see there's not much life inside.