clues to the blues reflecting from your eyes to the one of my mind.
as for me i'm coming to my final failure
killed myself with changes tyring to make things better
ended becoming some other than what i had planned to be.
a day wasted with what i once loved best. now sleep doesn't seem to attrack me like it used to. the second one is making my head spin, and i wonder how would it feel, when i don't have the time to feel anything about this, for a few weeks now. to know i have been erased is a slap in the face, but one i did see coming. in a different manner of course, but then again i never know, how you are gonna strike, just that the bruises are coming, and i'll be wearing them, swearing it's the last time and then sitting around, waiting for your next best shot, while my next bold move, is very much lacking, in content and meaning, and in even forgiving, myself, for what i let you do. we use strong language, and where it is explicit is where we are hanging on for a little bit of soemthing to take back home when the war is over. but it has been years, and i have a collection of medals, for being a survivor, where i would have rather died with honor than live with being defeated by such an unworthy opponent. and i am all up on it, while i can't believe it, the things i resort to, to not resort to bleeding, and my limbs are sore, from all this denial, from looking at something beautiful, and faking the smiles, because i know it was over, i knew it before it began, i just telling myself i can do this, i can, but i can't, though of course the warranty can last for years, when the product is so willing, and the view from the rear, gave me some understanding, of common sense question from those of us who carry much less weight beneath our ears. but she is wasting time while i sit here. with miss number two and number threee waiting, for me to take this down, cause they know i'll be longing for the hollow sound, of numbness. inside and out my body is feeling nothing, and i should be happy right now, but instead, i am feeling nothing, except this self control raging to keep me from exploding, from delivering undeserved blows to a heart that is still growing. maybe it will serve as experience in the games people play, but you must have known we were pretending, me and you can play doctor while the results on love are still pending. but when i say the things i say i know exactly of who i'm thinking, i feel myself deeply sinking, into the hole that i been digging, and my skin is itching with soemthing trying to get out. i am waiting for you to be here, or just be around, i want something more than that with which i get by, i wanna feel like the songs are real, when they are romantic and shit like that. can i please have it back? i wished it away but i was 100% passion, before i left it all behind, for the safety of certainty, of settling for, and settling down, for naming children that can never be born, if you insist on being how you are, and not someone i can fall for. yeah i know its fucked up, i know it's my taste, i know i can't mold you, but i can still see here face, when i think of the perfection, of love finally found, and if i counted up these tears, i will surely drown, and the last taste like regret, while i float on solid ground, and i am assuming there is other life here, but i see no one around. and i wanna wake you with kisses, but you just shut me up. so i came back here still thinking the fuck? you'll be just as perplexed when you go and spread my legs, but i can't stay awake, too little too late. i'm sure you'll be enough, for some guy, who doesn't need words, who is satisfied by getting access to your hole, and puts a ring around your finger, and takes you home, whole. even the cigarettes fail me, grant me no satifaction, and when i'm close to filter, i wonder why i even bothered lighting this bitch, when i knew it wouldn't satisfy my itch, like it used to, and i will sooner light another, while i wait for my lover, to rise and do the same i am expecting, from nicotine. some people get by on salt and pepper i like savouring the hidden ingredient, of someone's lips, on the mouth of their minds, on the pen of their tongues, writting these lines, that make me wonder, if i am good enough for you. but when these things happen, which they rarely do, i go back home, to content, while dreaming of the happiness, i held between these two hands and then laid to rest. i'm gonna lure you with food, and if that doesn't work, i think i am going to have a very hard time, staying this good.
killed myself with changes tyring to make things better
ended becoming some other than what i had planned to be.
a day wasted with what i once loved best. now sleep doesn't seem to attrack me like it used to. the second one is making my head spin, and i wonder how would it feel, when i don't have the time to feel anything about this, for a few weeks now. to know i have been erased is a slap in the face, but one i did see coming. in a different manner of course, but then again i never know, how you are gonna strike, just that the bruises are coming, and i'll be wearing them, swearing it's the last time and then sitting around, waiting for your next best shot, while my next bold move, is very much lacking, in content and meaning, and in even forgiving, myself, for what i let you do. we use strong language, and where it is explicit is where we are hanging on for a little bit of soemthing to take back home when the war is over. but it has been years, and i have a collection of medals, for being a survivor, where i would have rather died with honor than live with being defeated by such an unworthy opponent. and i am all up on it, while i can't believe it, the things i resort to, to not resort to bleeding, and my limbs are sore, from all this denial, from looking at something beautiful, and faking the smiles, because i know it was over, i knew it before it began, i just telling myself i can do this, i can, but i can't, though of course the warranty can last for years, when the product is so willing, and the view from the rear, gave me some understanding, of common sense question from those of us who carry much less weight beneath our ears. but she is wasting time while i sit here. with miss number two and number threee waiting, for me to take this down, cause they know i'll be longing for the hollow sound, of numbness. inside and out my body is feeling nothing, and i should be happy right now, but instead, i am feeling nothing, except this self control raging to keep me from exploding, from delivering undeserved blows to a heart that is still growing. maybe it will serve as experience in the games people play, but you must have known we were pretending, me and you can play doctor while the results on love are still pending. but when i say the things i say i know exactly of who i'm thinking, i feel myself deeply sinking, into the hole that i been digging, and my skin is itching with soemthing trying to get out. i am waiting for you to be here, or just be around, i want something more than that with which i get by, i wanna feel like the songs are real, when they are romantic and shit like that. can i please have it back? i wished it away but i was 100% passion, before i left it all behind, for the safety of certainty, of settling for, and settling down, for naming children that can never be born, if you insist on being how you are, and not someone i can fall for. yeah i know its fucked up, i know it's my taste, i know i can't mold you, but i can still see here face, when i think of the perfection, of love finally found, and if i counted up these tears, i will surely drown, and the last taste like regret, while i float on solid ground, and i am assuming there is other life here, but i see no one around. and i wanna wake you with kisses, but you just shut me up. so i came back here still thinking the fuck? you'll be just as perplexed when you go and spread my legs, but i can't stay awake, too little too late. i'm sure you'll be enough, for some guy, who doesn't need words, who is satisfied by getting access to your hole, and puts a ring around your finger, and takes you home, whole. even the cigarettes fail me, grant me no satifaction, and when i'm close to filter, i wonder why i even bothered lighting this bitch, when i knew it wouldn't satisfy my itch, like it used to, and i will sooner light another, while i wait for my lover, to rise and do the same i am expecting, from nicotine. some people get by on salt and pepper i like savouring the hidden ingredient, of someone's lips, on the mouth of their minds, on the pen of their tongues, writting these lines, that make me wonder, if i am good enough for you. but when these things happen, which they rarely do, i go back home, to content, while dreaming of the happiness, i held between these two hands and then laid to rest. i'm gonna lure you with food, and if that doesn't work, i think i am going to have a very hard time, staying this good.