Better Days

my best friend called me crying yesterday

said she stormed out on her husband—splashed her wine across his face

and we laughed a little then we got real quiet

she said i don’t know what’s wrong with me but something isn’t right

 

it’s not funny is it really anymore

she said my meds aren’t working like they did before

and it leaves me thinking

why do i need these pills just to be ok

where are my better days

 

a girl i know’s a waitress with a kid

she drinks at work some nights to take the edge off of it

she’s not proud to tell you, today she woke up with a stranger in her bed

she sent him out the back door before her kid came walking in

 

it’s not funny is it really anymore

she said i’m thirty-five and acting twenty-four

and it leaves me thinking

i can’t let my daughter see me live this way

where are my better days

 

you know i firebombed my own life a long time ago

i’ve been barely scraping by since i left that home

we were raised with expectations,

lord, i had the highest hopes

but oh no oh no

 

it’s not funny is it really anymore

i thought by now i’d have more answers

and it leaves me thinking

if i could try again would i do it all the same

where are my better days