| I tried to write a verse about not giving up
|
| But only got halfway through
|
| Then went back into that daydream
|
| Where I meet up with you
|
| So what do you want to talk about?
|
| I haven’t been up to much
|
| Except for showering four times a day
|
| For pretty much no reason
|
| And listening to record after record of friends' bands that have broken up and
|
| moved on
|
| And wondering why I can’t seem to do the same
|
| And yes, I still think about you
|
| Just to make sure I feel sick
|
| Just to make sure I can’t sleep at night
|
| From the fires being set inside my head
|
| And you can bet now that I’ve stopped hanging around
|
| That I’m still stuck here broke and alone and trying to think of words that
|
| rhyme
|
| Trying to make up for lost time
|
| I’m sorry that before I tried to make my exit I thanked you
|
| I didn’t want you to think you were to blame
|
| For a while I was trying to do what I could to make the best of the situation
|
| But it’s hard to take anything when there’s nothing left
|
| So at first it seemed best drugging myself to death
|
| Rather than risk the chance of making things any worse
|
| What a fucking genius
|
| What a fucking martyr
|
| What a fucking hopeless case
|
| Oh, what a shame this whole thing turned out to be
|
| I took a walk around Stretford Meadows today
|
| And thought about how much I miss the old one
|
| Got back home and got inside in time for the worlds to collide
|
| Shut my eyes, lay on my side
|
| Focused on my breath
|
| And then suddenly everything went quiet
|
| I drifted off and had a dream you put your hand in mine
|
| And we walked around Bruntsfield Links
|
| Then suddenly everything was terrible
|
| You told me to go fuck myself
|
| I woke up feeling miserable
|
| And now every time that I close my eyes
|
| The sky looks nothing like the one I saw
|
| It looks like something Beksiński forgot to draw
|
| Something Beksiński forgot to draw |