Now, there's coke on the nose of a bro I don't know, in a showroom of clothes that were fancily sewn, in a town that I loathe on a coast that gets stoked, on the thing made of gold in a home that I own, from a song that I wrote about likes and "hello"s, on a post on my phone of a party I throw, but I know I'm alone, no, I know I'm alone, in the hole in the bottom of my brain.