Is there hope for us? There is distance between you and i. We had just enough, so it comes as no surprise. I was in between. She was matches and kerosene. (Is your concious clean. Can you get it clean?) Did you celebrate without me? (Did you tell them all about me?) Did you sell me out? Because if you ever had a doubt, now the ambulance is here.
Does get you off? To get it off your chest? Such an ugly year. Such an awful mess. I can't write, i can't sing, i can't do anything at all. Is there someone here? Is there hope for us? There are constants that we can't define. Is it all used up? Are we out of time? Did you sell me out? Because if you ever had a doubt, you could've sang it out.
Piece of Mind
Up again at 2 am
where there’s noone left to talk to
i’ll look ahead but it’s all the same
waiting, wanting, too many games
to look behind
those bridges are burnt
i thought I saw them crumble
once or twice
i don’t remember ashes.
I hunger so much to break
break down all that’s been broken
break out from under this debt
that i’m paying down into myself
my hands are already bleeding,
my clothes already torn to frays
just enough to fade in and out
of this one soundless moment.
Distance becomes a reality of its own
where despondency eats up all my stores
and I have no resistance to my own myopathy
i self medicate
with a dose of despair in my own blind mouth
there’s a bitter taste
to the lies I once told myself
in which I could achieve the present,
but I know now that the present
always tastes better once it’s spent.
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