Asual acquaintances because time just won’t allow I can see their disappointed faces in the crowd Beauty is the Lure trouble at the rod I don’t need another chicken in the pot I seem to always find myself wondering how I’m here again I can never clear a space without some mess finding its way in People love to talk until they’re finally sure I’m somewhat interested I spend my time wondering how they can’t tell I’m not listening No I’m not listening Too many things to do with nothing good to say just more clouds on a sunny day Liquor is the Lure trouble at the rod Tell myself one more then I hit the rock