The return of your fucking idol
The place where we rest once thoughts dissolve always leaves me nautious
Sick of being
Sick of leaving
Sick of returning
Sick of wanting more
Slicing flesh on barbed wire and concrete shards leaves nothing
When did this all leave?
Your eternity is supposed to be hot
And why am I still so fucking cold?
"Welcome me home, its been a while"
Words that ring as hollow as that time we said goodbye.
Wake me up
Dress me up
Work me up
Fuck me up
Pass me up
Do it again
Leave me waiting for that next chapter that never comes.
I'll spread my legs for you if you'll fucking love me.
Yes, kids that never read my random musings...I'm back home for you not to notice.
I don't know how many states I've been in this summer, or how many cops I've sped by on the way. I don't remember how many times I've "gotten up" on walls, trains, or unhappy mornings...but its not like there's a reason to. Hold my hand if you're fucking out there...cause its dark and I'm cold and I can't quite remember when things were different. Its fucking sad that I'm here rightnow, and that I have to bend over for people I don't know because the ones I trust are no longer around. Next time I'll paint my digits and address on the billboards so I can beg for attention more directly and consequentially than four random letters and three for a crew.
Sick of being
Sick of leaving
Sick of returning
Sick of wanting more
Slicing flesh on barbed wire and concrete shards leaves nothing
When did this all leave?
Your eternity is supposed to be hot
And why am I still so fucking cold?
"Welcome me home, its been a while"
Words that ring as hollow as that time we said goodbye.
Wake me up
Dress me up
Work me up
Fuck me up
Pass me up
Do it again
Leave me waiting for that next chapter that never comes.
I'll spread my legs for you if you'll fucking love me.
Yes, kids that never read my random musings...I'm back home for you not to notice.
I don't know how many states I've been in this summer, or how many cops I've sped by on the way. I don't remember how many times I've "gotten up" on walls, trains, or unhappy mornings...but its not like there's a reason to. Hold my hand if you're fucking out there...cause its dark and I'm cold and I can't quite remember when things were different. Its fucking sad that I'm here rightnow, and that I have to bend over for people I don't know because the ones I trust are no longer around. Next time I'll paint my digits and address on the billboards so I can beg for attention more directly and consequentially than four random letters and three for a crew.