The World at My Feet

I am little more than a troubled mind
 In a shaking head locked in a room
 With a bottle of Jack throwing punches
 Reminiscent of meaningful conversation
 All I've got is time and a drinking problem to kill it
 Trivial notion of a glass half full, got a sour taste to fill it
 Death's coming but I'm sick of waiting
 No peace because I'm busy hating
 Nine lives, a million second chances
 And a trail of hearts and failed romances
 I'm watching the smoke dance around my room
 I'm fading to nothing before noon
 You would've thought I'd be full of love
 I had the world at my feet but I fucked it all up