THE STARVING ARTIST

I remember I had a friend
Who'd just pretend
That he was fine
Until it blew up in his face
Couldn't sleep in his own bed
He wished he was dead
Cause it was better
Than hanging around
That same old place

So he stayed out every night
He seemed alright
When he was drunk or high
That's when he talked the most
He would laugh and tell a joke
To please the folks
And he was smooth enough
So some girls were always close

Like a campfire
Throwing embers
See the sparks fly from the brakes
Coming down the iron tracks
Or a bad liar
Just an actor
Said he'd learned from his mistakes
And he was leaving
But he would be right back

And who would've been convinced
Especially since
We didn't see him
Till the seventeenth of may
We could smell it on his breath
He looked like death
And you could tell he was tired
But he hadn't slept for days

Like a stray dog
Growing whiskers
On the corner of the street
Where he has made his bed to rest
Or like a lazy
Starving artist
Wanting just to make ends meet
He only wished that he could say
He'd done his best