"Happy Hour" genre: Emo
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	(Spring 1999) There's a time for talk, there's a time for sleep, and goddamn it, you look tired.
	MP3.com CD: How's My Driving? - buy it! CD: How's My Driving   Label: Fat Guy Rock
	Lyrics Though I hung my squandered promise on the bedpost by your head, Whispered low, "I think I'm dying." "Does it hurt?" was all you said. And when I finally felt less damaged, buying quinessential rounds, You'd gone fishing for psychosis, you were nowhere to be found. You cook it up, and I toss it back, I start to choke, you start to laugh, But I don't know baby, It doesn't go away. You'll say I brought it up, but I think you took it wrong, And it's happy hour all goddamn weekend long. If I've ever tasted faith, it rang more sour for your kiss. And though I've never been betrayed, I'm sure it stings a bit like this. You were the first lust that I've trusted, You'll be the last love I endure, You'll call it space, I call it war. You said, "There's a time for talk, there's a time for sleep, and goddamn it, you look tired."

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