|You've got ways out, and you've got ways in.
||[Sep. 28th, 2006|03:58 pm]
melodies and paintings.|
writing like it would save my life.
getting what you wanted me to get with what you got.
realizing that it will all be okay.
effort. i've become something of potential effort.
"we're sorting trash like we'd find something new."
my skin itches.
train rides home. face me due west.
seeing the sunset with soundtracks that define fall.
everything changes with the weather.
"but its just that i don't really feel like going home."
sideways and full of it all.
breathe out with all the leaves in the air.
me and baraba talking shit.
love us or leave us.
I've found company in the weirdest ways.
waving at conductors and squiting in the face of it all.
"its probably our last summer night"
tea and chips on worn out benches.
i'm trying, oh god am i trying.
time is a strange thing.
it can rip worlds apart, and when you revist them, everything just looks so strange and deformed.
Its a street you drove down for more than ten years, and seeing it again and the buildings torn down and buildings built up.
nothing stops or notices us until its far past its construction date.
we're not so much ghost towns as we are developed land and strip malls.
we're sitting ducks.
gimme a dollar and a dime, and baby we're yesterdays news.
baby, when we're on, we're fucking on. But god help us in the bad times.
setting my watches to each and every action.
I'm the nurse in the clinic noting how the patient keeps ripping up their sheets.
you are nothing but repetitive.
and i'm nothing but heartless.
note your behavior, and tell doctor how you've got no hope for recovery in my eyes.
wake me up.
we're always sleepwalking in memories.
stepping around eggshells.
but didn't you know?
you placed them all there yourself.
and i got the reverse effects. that sick drop in my stomach. where your realize that maybe things just might not turn out alright.
and like a good confidante, i've got it all down and wrapped in bows.
its so much easier to forget than to move on.
wake up time and time again.
if this isn't over, then we're better off being numb.
kill the receptors with time and distance.
iv drips and sedatives.
Selling the world our lies cornerside for a few cheap bucks.
tell me this isn't a business, and maybe then we'll meet at a coersive point.
i go home to empty houses.
and i'm at such a reluctant age that silence isn't an enemy.
we're ups and we're downs.
we've become few and far between.
we've transfered wings, and picked up new habits and new stays.
old and grey.
this is all grown old and grey.
and i've realized i've woken up.
and i've realized you were no longer there.