The Place Where You Can Always Beat Your Fists

I'm here to raise my drink to your desperate ballad.Scream at me through your clenched teeth.I know youre not alright.It's not alright.I know everything's all wrong.Everyone is gone.I watched them leave. I see you plead. You throw your fist at my chest. And I try. And I can't sleep. My heart is fucking yours and I'm not going home.I passed up the exit for the retreat 8 miles back. This world is filled to the brim with retreat, and not enough people to meet you where your at. Your'e not alright. Its not alright. You can keep up the fight. You can lose and give up. Either way tell me whats up. Cause its still not alright and it wasnt alright and it probably wont be alright! I know darling. Sing me that song. Rage against me with full force. Tell me about what they do to those who bleed. Tell me how you came to know your demons. Tell me what the fuck is wrong with you. Yes they brought me down too. Even though we keep on weepin we can still hold hands. Thats where God's at. Thats where God's at.