The stuff had different names
And came in different shapes, sizes, colors,
States of matter, states of mind, prices, amounts
But it was the same to me.
 
And the settings looked different
Park benches in broad daylight and alleys at night,
Abandoned buildings and vehicle storage and private homes
All the same to me.
 
And different were the people -
You were pushing 40, in a worn out coat and a worn out expression
And you were 20-something, all in leather, looking for that something more
And you didn't look a day over 16, and had a sick desperation in your eyes -
You all did, really.
 
You need something to help you sleep.
You need something to help you feel. Be sociable. Be confident.
Something to help you forget. You have to forget -
Escape, be somewhere else, anywhere else, just get out of your own head.
You just don't want to be scared anymore.
 
But it's really all the same.
 
And I'm not making fun of you. I'm not calling you naive.
I've seen a hundred just like you, and will probably see a hundred more
With the sick desperation, the nervous laugh, the feigned confidence
And that's okay.
 
If there's anyone who can call you normal,
And tell you he understands,
And that you're not alone,
Because he saw a hundred just like you,
And will probably see a hundred more,
It's me.