In about a week I will be either dead or alive and that is all that makes sense now.
i never found out what people like about me
i never correctly gave them any reasons to like me
people look at other people in a funny way
they expect you to look back in the same way
i can never look directly at people i don't know
i can't even look at people i know sometimes
i don't think i truly know anyone
people tell stories to other people in a lying way
i don't think i will ever know anyone
i don't think i ever told you my story
i can't stop thinking ever
well sometimes i think i am insane
the only insane person in that street
if you look at people they don't make sense
but i make sense; i don't try to make sense
i just walk around without a reason
that is why i am insane
this is the end of my story
this is the end of our conversation
when people say goodbye they don't mean it
people who look back are never lonely
i never look back anymore
i would rather not see you leave me
people leave each other all the time
they go home and call on the phone
nobody has called me for several weeks now
i hate talking on the phone for some reason
that prevents people from calling me
when they do i never answer
i hate talking for some reason
i can not tell you what you are going to do next
i can never tell what i am going to do next
i sometimes feel i am not going to do anything next
if a gamma ray hit the earth we would not have a next
sometimes these thoughts pop into my mind
a lot of stuff seems to pop into my mind
my mind is a cruel thing; it is cruel to itself
it can harm itself in numerous different ways
my mind is not a particularly happy place
it holds a lot of strange ideas within it
it holds a lot of dark matter within it
it is ever expanding and significantly empty
i live in a region within it with several other people
they all look at me in a funny way
personalities swap me from time to time
none seem to find me pleasant enough to stay
the thing is i cannot hear you calling my name
i never told you my name
my name has two words
it means i love you
my name has two words
it means not much
those are the words
that is my name
nothing is never quite what it seems
if the bridge falls everything will fall with it
i am the bridge; i am collapsing
if i collapse everything falls with me
what if i am the glue that is holding the universe together
would you love me then
a lot of stuff seems to pop into my mind
i am everything i am
there is no denying that
my hands are cold; i need to smoke
i wish we held hands
i can't find my orange lighter
i can't seem to stop thinking
this is basic; i am basic
sometimes i don't look when i cross the street
i am not afraid of dying
i am not particularly afraid of pain
i feel pain every day
at least physical pain makes sense
i feel lonely every day
maybe if i start looking back
maybe if i start taking calls
but no one has called me in over three weeks now
if you ask me everyone feels lonely
they just have some place to go.
i never correctly gave them any reasons to like me
people look at other people in a funny way
they expect you to look back in the same way
i can never look directly at people i don't know
i can't even look at people i know sometimes
i don't think i truly know anyone
people tell stories to other people in a lying way
i don't think i will ever know anyone
i don't think i ever told you my story
i can't stop thinking ever
well sometimes i think i am insane
the only insane person in that street
if you look at people they don't make sense
but i make sense; i don't try to make sense
i just walk around without a reason
that is why i am insane
this is the end of my story
this is the end of our conversation
when people say goodbye they don't mean it
people who look back are never lonely
i never look back anymore
i would rather not see you leave me
people leave each other all the time
they go home and call on the phone
nobody has called me for several weeks now
i hate talking on the phone for some reason
that prevents people from calling me
when they do i never answer
i hate talking for some reason
i can not tell you what you are going to do next
i can never tell what i am going to do next
i sometimes feel i am not going to do anything next
if a gamma ray hit the earth we would not have a next
sometimes these thoughts pop into my mind
a lot of stuff seems to pop into my mind
my mind is a cruel thing; it is cruel to itself
it can harm itself in numerous different ways
my mind is not a particularly happy place
it holds a lot of strange ideas within it
it holds a lot of dark matter within it
it is ever expanding and significantly empty
i live in a region within it with several other people
they all look at me in a funny way
personalities swap me from time to time
none seem to find me pleasant enough to stay
the thing is i cannot hear you calling my name
i never told you my name
my name has two words
it means i love you
my name has two words
it means not much
those are the words
that is my name
nothing is never quite what it seems
if the bridge falls everything will fall with it
i am the bridge; i am collapsing
if i collapse everything falls with me
what if i am the glue that is holding the universe together
would you love me then
a lot of stuff seems to pop into my mind
i am everything i am
there is no denying that
my hands are cold; i need to smoke
i wish we held hands
i can't find my orange lighter
i can't seem to stop thinking
this is basic; i am basic
sometimes i don't look when i cross the street
i am not afraid of dying
i am not particularly afraid of pain
i feel pain every day
at least physical pain makes sense
i feel lonely every day
maybe if i start looking back
maybe if i start taking calls
but no one has called me in over three weeks now
if you ask me everyone feels lonely
they just have some place to go.