What Day Is It, October?

My lifestyle is a form of suicide
 But then again, everyone's is
 Mine just may be faster than others
 The drinking, smoking, hearing from my mother
 That I should take much better care of myself
 I spend my life staring at my bedroom walls
 The TV's on, but I don't care
 In my mind, it really hasn't been that long
 But then reality sets in and it's been years
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 All alone in my room
 Without anything to do
 Except I'm thinking of you and the times that we spent
 Glued at the lips, always attached at the hip
 Your special brand of crazy and the sex after fights
 I know that those days are gone, I think about it most nights
 Those days are gone
 Those days are gone
 Those days are gone
 Those days are gone
 ♪
 I think about you most nights