You can sit there all you want
My friend
Picking at your thumbs
But you and I know
How this will end
When the day of reckoning comes
The End Of The Road
Pretending gets tiring
After a while
So in the end you stop
With no cylinders left firing
And an inibility to smile
It’s back up to that rooftop
‘It’s Looking Like A Limb Torn Off’
They smile and ask if I’m OK
So I lie and the emptiness downplay
For they have forgotten about the man
With no notion of the fact I never can
‘Should I Stay Or Should I Go’
If
someone
told me
then
How all
this
would
end
I’d pack
a bag
and run
away
And not
even
bother
to pretend
Sick & Tired
And
so
begins
another
day
Where
I pretend
every
thing
is ok
If
only
there
was
another
way
As I
hate
being
such a
fucking
cliché
50-50 Split
Everybody’s
everythingBut
Nobody’s
nothingBoth at
the same
time
Cutting Through The Bullshit
I’m
not
really
cryingShe
saidHonestly
things
are
fineYou
can’t
kid a
kidderHe
saidNow
just
come
back
to mine
Cardiac Arrest
My heart
has been
aching
all day
Nothing
has made
the pain
go away
Perhaps
this will
finally be
the end
And I’ll
no longer
have to
pretend
The Truth
If you
knew
the
truth
about meYou
would
run
away
and hideYou
wouldn’t
waste
another
minuteOn
someone
so
rotten
inside
Good Enough
So I’m good enough
to speak to today?
Now all your friends
have gone away?
Well I’ll hold my tongue
and try to be nice.
But you’ll find my lenience
will come at a price.
Apathy & Deception
How the
fuck am
I going
to get
through
today
when I
can’t even
open my
eyes?Why the
fuck am
I even
bothering
today
when
my life
is just
a myriad
of lies?
Apologies
I’m sorry I act like I don’t care,
I’m sorry it seems like I’m rarely there.
I’m sorry it looks like I don’t even try,
I’m sorry that you’ve never see me cry.
I’m sorry I never appear in a hurry,
I’m sorry I always make you worry.
I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be.
But most of all I’m just sorry for being me.
How Are You?
It’s easier to say I’m alright, rather then I’m anxious.
It’s easier to say I’m okay, rather than I’m outraged.
It’s easier to say I’m better, rather than I’m broken.
It’s easier to say I’m good, rather than I’m grieving.
It’s easier to say I’m well, rather than I’m wasted.
It’s easier to say I’m fine, rather than I’m fucked.
The Act
I can act like I’m happy,
I can act like I’m there.
I can act like I’m over it,
I can act like I care.
But it’s all to avoid having to admit,
That I’m just really fucking scared of life.
Without you.
