got invited to a celebration not sure if I'll attend don't feel much like galavanting rolling with the punches knocked the wind out of me on the ropes trying to cope with what's thrown at me I'm not happy I'm not sad I'm some where in the middle between the two opposites can't call it by name it won't come to me don't want no company I reach out to feel but I can't touch the texture of the surface of the surrounding don't feel like dressing up to stand in a crowded room holding a red Solo cup dancing up a holy ghost in the midst of a holocaust waiting for a volcano to erupt and the gulf to swallow us beg borrow or barter chaos brings about order it's high time to get the house in order it's hard to pretend to be carefree when summers over and the second coming of the sun is in the line of fire and the firing squad is the powers that be