Sigh...
Alone…this constant reoccurring feeling…I don’t like it. I feel alone, yet I want to be alone…does that even make any sense? I lay wide-awake tonight, with the wheels in my head spinning and spinning. I’m sick of my parents being assholes to me. They yell at me for being in my room, and call me anti social, yet when I try to be “social” I get ignored. I am so sick of being ignored. The top two things that I hate the most are being ignored and being alone, and I feel both right now. I am at a point in my life where I feel like I'm going nowhere, I don’t know hat I want to do in school, I just feel that everything a am involved in I am stuck, and I'm going nowhere, and its killing me. I cant take this anymore. I just don’t know what to do. I can’t seem to get anything that I want to work out…and I try so hard, its so discouraging. I try to be so positive and work so hard to get things to work and they don’t, they never do… am I waiting my time? My life? I just feel like I am in a dead end. Or maybe it’s just that I whine a lot, which I'm sure people probably think that…but oh well. I don t care…why should I? It seems like whenever I actually add to this thing it seems to be about the same thing…but rarely do I actually update and this is the main time when I need to get stuff out…so what ever…who care about what other people think…I guess I'm starting to otherwise I wouldn’t have even mentioned it now would I have? Ugh…enough of this...ill quit wasting yours and my time…ill go write in my real journal…yeah…sounds like a plan…
Late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal
red light, cant stop so I spin the wheel
my world goes black before I feel an angel lift me up
and I open bloodshot eyes into fluorescent white
they flip the siren, hit the lights, close the doors and I am gone.
Now I lay here owing my life to a stranger
and I realize that empty words are not enough
Im left here with the question of just
what have I to show except the promise I never kept?
I lie here shaking on this bed, under the weight of my regrets.
I hope that this can be more than just flashing lights and sound
Look around and youll see that a times it feels like no one really cares
it gets me down but Im still gonna try to do whats right, I know that theres
a difference between sleight of hand, and giving everything you have
theres a line drawn in the sand, Im working up the will to cross it.
rhetoric cant raise the dead
Im sick of always talking when theres no change
Im sick of empty words, lets lead and not follow
Late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal
red light, cant stop so I spin the wheel
my world goes black before I feel an angel steal me from the
greedy jaws of death and chance, and pull me in with steady hands
they've given me a second chance, the artist in the ambulance
can we pick you off the ground; more than flashing lights and sound
Thrice - Artist in the Ambulance
Late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal
red light, cant stop so I spin the wheel
my world goes black before I feel an angel lift me up
and I open bloodshot eyes into fluorescent white
they flip the siren, hit the lights, close the doors and I am gone.
Now I lay here owing my life to a stranger
and I realize that empty words are not enough
Im left here with the question of just
what have I to show except the promise I never kept?
I lie here shaking on this bed, under the weight of my regrets.
I hope that this can be more than just flashing lights and sound
Look around and youll see that a times it feels like no one really cares
it gets me down but Im still gonna try to do whats right, I know that theres
a difference between sleight of hand, and giving everything you have
theres a line drawn in the sand, Im working up the will to cross it.
rhetoric cant raise the dead
Im sick of always talking when theres no change
Im sick of empty words, lets lead and not follow
Late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal
red light, cant stop so I spin the wheel
my world goes black before I feel an angel steal me from the
greedy jaws of death and chance, and pull me in with steady hands
they've given me a second chance, the artist in the ambulance
can we pick you off the ground; more than flashing lights and sound
Thrice - Artist in the Ambulance