Out late on weeknights, friends might come see But while all of them are off getting married and taking salaries I'm in this Tuesday bar to play When you talk to me, I might explain That I'm not like the others, with their pipe dream-clouded brains But when you walk away, I'm back in line Stuck waiting to give it one more try Like flames shot at halftime, or seats in first class I can't help but feel I'm not necessary, 'cause I'm not changing much For people in distress anywhere And I'd give it up and accept my fate But I'm like a retriever that gets out past the gate And even though the goal's not clear I'll have to be closer if I give it one more year