The Real Damage

I woke up on a sofa in an unfamiliar house, surrounded by sleeping folks I didn't know. On failing to find my friends, I decided it was clearly time to go. So I made my way out of the door as quietly as I could - there was no one there I knew to say goodbye, Squinting in the sadly sobering sunshine of the Sunday morning light. I started the night with all my friends and I ended up alone. I started out so happy now I'm hungover and down. It was about then that I realized I was half-way through the best years of my life. I scanned the local landmarks, trying to find out where I was, and maybe even find a bus back home, Longing for a shower, and for clean sheets, and a charger for my phone. Suddenly it hit me - I got paid this Friday last, and so I rifled through my pockets for some change. But all I found was a packet of broken cigarettes and a sinking sense of shame. I had to ask myself: Is is really worth it? Is any of this worth it? Well the whole thing's far from perfect, But I've yet to figure out a better way to spend my time. Too many suits and dirty looks made me rack my brains - the real damage started to sink in. It'd been quite a heavy weekend and I could just about remember where I'd been. Well I started the night with all my friends and I ended up alone, I started out so happy now I'm hungover and down. I stood on a street corner and I felt a little sick. It was about then that I realized I was halfway through the first day of the week. --- The Real Damage - Frank Turner