have one of those days when you want to try heroin, drunk driving, some form of soft suicide. sitting in silence and staring at ceilings or peeling the paint off of things to confide.
maybe someday the lies we've lead around will crawl under our beds and sleep off the years.
teach me to wiggle my ears like that, show the scar that you got when you feel off your bike. ask me the questions you never want answers to. we can re-write them however we like.
maybe someday the lies we've lead around will crawl under our beds and sleep off the years.
stop the hard wood floors lop sided grin. leave the dirt and dead flowers in a brown coffee tin. let your hand melt a hole in the frost. peer out under a sky that looks just like a shirt i lost.
maybe someday the lies we've lead around will crawl under our beds and sleep off the years.