What is this bullshit of swollen lips, pretended kiss, a world of words and images, and none of these is actual, in realness.
Albeit I'd probably ruin my party
and It's not because I drink too much
Maybe just cause my thoughts are too dark,
Dirt under your nails,
leaves leaping over your veins,
tie this piece of wood to your shin,
"If I were you I would not put too much pressure on it, son"
The fear of being alone The fear of being unknown The fear of being loathed for all those fears I got We all wrote a song of despair But all we want is to be aware Hence we wrote about us instead
All these people, get tickets to wherever, I am just not sure I'd want to go, I don't know where to look and how to walk, bought a telephone but I don't want to talk.