(no subject)
I've been in bed every since Sunday night. I'm extremely ill, with a throat the size of America's deficit. Everyone knows when you're sick you end up thinking so out of line you begin to make sense out of your biggest problems and mysteries, you start to come up with answers you never could have when well, and with all the heavy foggy thought patterns, things become more and more clear.
Don't you hate when you look for a pile of crap out of suspicion, then actually find that pile of crap? Your paranoia confirmed, your fears solid and the truth uglier then your reflection? Thank God for I-Tunes, add another playlist. Playlist number 8273625, another one of your discoveries, so add another song to fit your fate. You shouldnt go around looking for something you don't want to find. But when you have cigarette burns deep under your third layer of skin, almost touching your rib cage protecting your heart, you're gonna start to play with fire so you can learn more about the thing that's inflicting that burn. But to them, it's just another cigarette. One of the many packs they have, one of the many days they'll smoke, one of the many ashes they'll flick, on you. And there you are, digging through the ashtray, expecting to find nothing when you're living with a chain smoker.
Don't you hate being the loser, at the end of the day?
Don't you hate when you look for a pile of crap out of suspicion, then actually find that pile of crap? Your paranoia confirmed, your fears solid and the truth uglier then your reflection? Thank God for I-Tunes, add another playlist. Playlist number 8273625, another one of your discoveries, so add another song to fit your fate. You shouldnt go around looking for something you don't want to find. But when you have cigarette burns deep under your third layer of skin, almost touching your rib cage protecting your heart, you're gonna start to play with fire so you can learn more about the thing that's inflicting that burn. But to them, it's just another cigarette. One of the many packs they have, one of the many days they'll smoke, one of the many ashes they'll flick, on you. And there you are, digging through the ashtray, expecting to find nothing when you're living with a chain smoker.
Don't you hate being the loser, at the end of the day?