staring back from the mirror's a face you don't recognize

in the cold light of morning while everyone's yawning, you're high
in the cold light of morning the party gets boring, you're high
as your skin starts to scratch and wave yesterday's action goodbye
forget past indiscretions and stolen possessions, you're high
in the cold light of day

tomorrow... tomorrow's only a kettle whisper away.

He walked through the guys that had passed out on the floor and stood by the pool. The light of day hit him hard, it was almost blinding. He had been up all night, partying away his hurt. One hundred Saturdays, one hundred days of alcohol and drug abuse, one hundred men he had allowed to use his body. As the light grew stronger, everything seemed to become clear. All the plans he had made for himself seemed worthless, he alone was worthless. This wasn't how he had planned to end up. As the drugs wore off, he realized the person he had become was quite annoying, even to himself. And it sucked that it was all he had, this useless mess, and he couldn't stand it. He thought to himself: Is this it?