.boy division (i wanted a mansion, you wanted to leave home).
i only know how to recycle my catch phrases, and all my mistakes. just when i thought we had a thing i let it die. and i'm not one for talking relationships. i'm still a proud member of the lonely hearts club. i just thought, as a pair, we were number one- but i made us number two.
i can't believe i'm this easy, i can't believe anyone can bullshit their way to me with flowers.
but honey, i bend but i don't break. and i hate this town and these lights and all of this noise. i think nocturnal readings or writings are a good therapy... only when i'm not talking to you. tell me anything, i'm all ears.
somewhere in the back of my mind is an oscar wilde screaming i can't go home again.
i can't bring back the 4am conversations. i can't make you l*ve me. i can't make you forget about me. i can't be everything you need.
and though we built a new home and reinforced the structure i think it's time we dynamite this place.
we can build a sandcastle if you want.
and I'm selfish, but then again- aren't all artists selfish?
i've spent years studying your face and all my friends are worried. they know all about you. they wish we weren't as naïve.
the worst of all of this is that my whole world revolved around you, and all my art spoke of you- even if it wasn't about you. now i barely breathe.
i think divine intervention could come in handy.
you know how i used to tell you how all good art knows when to die? well, i think it's time to at least put this art to sleep.
please respond.
i can't believe i'm this easy, i can't believe anyone can bullshit their way to me with flowers.
but honey, i bend but i don't break. and i hate this town and these lights and all of this noise. i think nocturnal readings or writings are a good therapy... only when i'm not talking to you. tell me anything, i'm all ears.
somewhere in the back of my mind is an oscar wilde screaming i can't go home again.
i can't bring back the 4am conversations. i can't make you l*ve me. i can't make you forget about me. i can't be everything you need.
and though we built a new home and reinforced the structure i think it's time we dynamite this place.
we can build a sandcastle if you want.
and I'm selfish, but then again- aren't all artists selfish?
i've spent years studying your face and all my friends are worried. they know all about you. they wish we weren't as naïve.
the worst of all of this is that my whole world revolved around you, and all my art spoke of you- even if it wasn't about you. now i barely breathe.
i think divine intervention could come in handy.
you know how i used to tell you how all good art knows when to die? well, i think it's time to at least put this art to sleep.
please respond.