My friend, 
You're always the last one to leave 
Those dimly lit rooms. 
Making sure the last glass makes its way to the table empty. 
And every bottle in the place 
Has been upside down 
At least a few times what a waste. 
Is this what's left of you these days? 
You're not eighteen anymore. 
Five years should have been, enough time for you to grow up and get over it. 
Its Not too cool to be throwing up all morning sick from what you might have done or done it with. 
And I swear if 
I could take your pain 
And frame it and hang it on my wall, 
Then maybe you would never have to hurt it all. 
And I'm Painting pictures in red and blue. 
A portrait bruised just like you 
But now you're walking away. 
You're not eighteen anymore. 
Five years should have been, enough time for you to grow up and get over it. 
Its not too cool to be throwing up all morning sick from what you might of done. 
When is enough, finally enough? 
When the hang-ups and the heartbreaks get you past 
All failures and bad breaks just accept yourself 
And Find something that brings you closer to complete 
And these pictures in red and blue. 
A portrait bruised just like you 
But now you're walking away. 
You're not eighteen anymore. 
Five years should have been, enough time for you to grow up and get over it. 
Its not too cool to be throwing up all morning sick 
From what you might of done or done it with. 
When is enough, finally enough? 
When is enough, finally enough?