I dont care...
She walks down the hallway
unoticed, unheard
She is but a mere shadow
of the loud voices and laughs
She opens her mouth to speak
only to be silenced by laughter
walks away, overwhelmed, over shadowed
by everything that isnt her
Stands but to fall,
Laughs only to cry,
opens up only to shut away
for the rest of the forgotten days
And she is told that torn jeans
and band shirts
arent really fashion statements
she is but a thing of past
But fame isnt her glory
beauty isnt her dream
the tube light isnt her sunlight
and lipstick isnt her pen
She walks down the hallway
with guitar solos in her head
she looks straight ahead
for her you dont exist
Eyes covered, silenced emotions
fogotten smiles and addictive songs
her footsteps echo in the silence
that silence aided by
the emptyness of mockery
but music fills her head
intoxicated, indifferent
She is her torn jeans
She is her band shirts
the voices of the dead poets
and she doesnt care
unoticed, unheard
She is but a mere shadow
of the loud voices and laughs
She opens her mouth to speak
only to be silenced by laughter
walks away, overwhelmed, over shadowed
by everything that isnt her
Stands but to fall,
Laughs only to cry,
opens up only to shut away
for the rest of the forgotten days
And she is told that torn jeans
and band shirts
arent really fashion statements
she is but a thing of past
But fame isnt her glory
beauty isnt her dream
the tube light isnt her sunlight
and lipstick isnt her pen
She walks down the hallway
with guitar solos in her head
she looks straight ahead
for her you dont exist
Eyes covered, silenced emotions
fogotten smiles and addictive songs
her footsteps echo in the silence
that silence aided by
the emptyness of mockery
but music fills her head
intoxicated, indifferent
She is her torn jeans
She is her band shirts
the voices of the dead poets
and she doesnt care