I want to breathe smoke
I want to dance in the rain
I want to redefine what it means to be insane

I want to tear down the walls
I want to flip the script
I want to rewrite the laws in a way I see fit

I want you to love me
I want not to care
I want to sell you your madness
At a price that's unfair

I want to cure all that's ugly
And purify the soul
I want to build you a maze
Then tell you which way to go

I want to stay young
I want to grow old
I want to disprove all of the lies you've been told

I want to be brilliant
While still being bland
I want to make love to you
I wanna hold your hand
I want to decipher all of the things that you don't understand
I want to reveal to you God's "Grand Master Plan"

I want to say all the right things
I want to control what I think
I want to find your battleship
And make that mother sink

I want another cigarette
I need another drink
I'm having such a hard time
Just trying to fall asleep

I want to inspire
I want to get inside your head
If I'm so tired
Why can't I just go to bed

I don't want to retire
I don't want it to end
I'll keep stoking this fire
I'll sleep when I'm dead

I wish I had a time machine to go back and kick my own ***.
Or at least try to talk some sense into myself.
"Listen kid, this **** doesn't bode well. You're burning alive and headed for hell."
Maybe writing is its own kind of time travel.
Billy Pilgrim knows what I'm talking about.
"Chin up child. Stop playing wild. I know you're trying to make your own style,
but you'll lose more than you'll gain."
But before I step in and turn the dial, my future self comes back to slap my hand.
"Let it be," I'll say to me.
One day you'll understand.

Empty girl. I can fill you up. Oh, would you look at that
How about another one?
Live it up right now while you're still young.
This ain't so bad is it?
I told you it was fun.

Simple girl. I can stir it up.
Complicate you so completely you'll swear you've had enough.
But I've got you started,
Now it will never stop.

Your passion is piling
Building up in your gut
You ask for release
I can give you what you want.

Live it up while you're young
Isn't this fun?
You say I broke your heart
You're not the only one.

You scream and you writhe
You sing out in hate
Can't say I didn't warn you
I told you this would be great

Lonely girl. I showed you my world
Not very pretty is it
But at least it feels real
Take what you've learned and do what you will
Mend all the birds that I nearly ****
And I'll cheat, and I'll lie, and I'll break, and I'll steal
Scan every room with hungry eyes until I find my next meal
And you'll always remember
I know that you will
When that heart of yours beats for me
You'll tell it to be still.

We are the things that get swept under
rugs. A ***** mass that the world strives to keep
hidden. Flecks of skin and strands of hair. Toe nails. Trapped
in the carpet with the bodies of the bugs
of which we have been bitten.

Gaze not upon our swollen parts;
inflamed. Your eyes will entice us to spread
rashes. The forbidden always in our thoughts
like stubborn mattress stains.

We are the things that live in closed
closets. Tearing at the threads meant to keep you
sheathed. Disembodied torsos on wiry hooks. Scarves. Chewing
holes through the garments with worn-out teeth.

Chills will let you know we're near
as you toss and turn in bed. We are the shadows that
watch you while you sleep. Our goal is to fill you with fear.
Your soul is ours to reap.

Build castles out of cards.
Cover it in glue.
Tear it all apart.
This is what we do.

I really am just full of all kinds of ****
You deserve better than to have to listen to it
Yet there you are
And here I am
And I can only stand to be
Exactly what I am (tonight)
So go on and tell me
How much better off you are without me
I'll say it's okay
But then I'll still try to stay
Until you finally tell me to go the **** away
I'm not going to argue
Because I know it's true
I don't want to be your sweetheart
I just want to play with you

I think you might have serious psychological issues.
A combination of PTSD and BDD,
resulting in an extreme form of misandry,
which you compensate for by completely disrespecting your own body.
With masochism as a defense mechanism,
and danger as stress relief;
your personal well-being is so far down on your list that it turns my stomach just thinking about it.
You're some kind of crazy and it makes me feel kind of sick.
How's that for a diagnosis?

"You met me at a very strange time in my life,"
and I could tell that you go for the wrong kind of guys,
so I pretended to be the other type.
The kind you don't like:
One of those who idolize.
And it worked.
Yet somehow in the process,
I managed to get hurt.

Do you really want to know the truth?
I thought that I would only hurt you.
I was still reeling from my past mistakes,
and you were far too sweet, too nice, too great.
So I did what I had to do,
but somewhere along the way,
I actually fell in love with you.
Big
*******
Mistake.

Muse of many.
Committed to none.
Play on lovely lyre,
play on.

Guiding light to the lost.
Promise of hope for everyone.
Shine on lovely star,
shine on.

I'm neurotically yours
It's impossibly true
All of my alter egos and I
Are madly in love with you

I'm crazy about you baby
The voices in my head tell me you're the one
(Of course, they also tell me God is in the numbers,
And that Doctor Oz is Satan's favorite son.)

I love you so much it's bad for my health
My reflection says I should seek professional help
But he's the one who ought to see a shrink
I never have any idea of what he's talking about

I can't keep track of who's said what,
Or when, or how, or where
Sometimes I talk to you out loud
Even when you're not really there

It's all those smiles that drive me wild
And the things you do with your hair
And the deep understanding I see in your face
As if you may actually care

I love you more than a narcissist loves himself
More than a poet loves words
I love you more than life itself
Baby, I'm neurotically yours

Shy girl with a secret
Silently scanning the room
I think I'll go over and try talking to you

Do you mind if I penetrate through your wall of silence?
I can regale you with the minutiae of cinema and science

Play the fool to make you smile
I don't believe I've ever seen one finer
I'm almost ashamed of how badly
I want to be inside her

Can I buy you a drink?
Then we can talk of desire
But no amount of spirits
Will put out this fire

The night's winding down; now where shall we go?
You play with your hair, and say "I don't know."

Shy girl with a secret
Quietly plotting my doom
I should have known better than to have spoken with you

Don't warp it into something that never was.
Just a game we played inside our heads with our hearts.

Failed predictions of a future that could never be.

You'll only ever be you.

I'll only ever be me.

My love for you is quite substantial
Just enough to get us by
When I'm with you, I never panic
My stomach knows no butterflies

My feelings for you are adequate
I kiss you like I do my mother
Politely, cordially, out of duty
Plainly and unpassionate

There are no ups and downs
No disbelief at what I've found
Our love is completely logical
Solid, steady, and sound

My love is understandable
Laid out, and well defined
My love is clearly tangible
No need for even trying

My want for you is sustainable
And well under control
My desire is easily satiable
Like a dead tree that no longer grows

I'll love you this way until I die
Or until the day you leave
And on that day, I will not cry
Nor shall I ever grieve

Because this kind of love is lacking passion
And without true belief
It's the kind of love you're better off without
It will never satisfy your needs

I had a dream that you Snapchatted me.
When I woke up the next morning,
I had the hardest time determining whether or not it had actually happened.
What was it that I opened?
Caught between too convincing possibilities.
Still, I miss the dreams where we used to transcend reality.
What ever happened to them?
Did they get buried beneath our physical limitations?
Did we get so caught up in our own problems to the point where fantasy became too outlandish,
even in sleep?

**** that.

I'll dig them back up -
No matter how deep.

It's in me.
It's in you too.
I've seen it shining through all that talk of
what has value and what has not.
Shimmering like an electric eel pulled fresh out of the channel;
squirming and writhing with a fully charged desire to
live
To burst forth with golden sparks that drift off to burn down
the spoon-fed notions of a "normal life."
We pushed it aside,
so that we might fly in to the night sky;
so that we may catch a glimpse of that certain, undefined
bliss that makes us feel truly alive.
Embrace it again.
**** it back into your skin then exhale that exuberance that has no beginning and no end.
Because we're still breathing.

Light the fuse.
I know it's in you,
I've seen it.
The taste of it still lingers on your tongue.
It's on mine too.

Going through my very own time portal
Watching my life through my head
And I'm sitting wondering how I got here again

Singing a new song with clicks and clacks
Knowing it will soon get stale
Sipping on my brandy and ginger ale

You might understand a different plight
But this one is all I know
Sometimes I wish I had somewhere else to go

Remedies are all anyone can say
I know that they never help
A person's got to learn to save their own self

And all it takes is some will power
To keep myself away from this
But I can only ever stand to do
Whatever I wish

And all I have is all I've ever had before
Sprawled out on the ceiling of my own room
I think I'll spend tonight on this bathroom floor

Don't ever fall in love with your own tragedy.

It's okay to go to the movies by yourself. (I mean, I've only ever done it once, but it was totally fine. The guy who sold me the ticket wasn't like, "Don't you have any friends?" and the people in the theater weren't constantly looking at me from over their shoulders and saying things like, "Is that guy really here all alone? What a loser!"
At least I don't think they were . . . )

Ditto for restaurants.

If you have a history of boyfriends/girlfriends who don't treat you very well, then you probably have a thing for negative attention.

If you don't trust/can't accept love, it's probably because you don't love yourself.

If he/she isn't interested, move on.
No really, move on.
I'm serious, cut the crap.
(Okay look; even if by some miracle it ever actually did happen (and I don't even like to use that phrase because it might give you false hope that it could,) it'd never feel right. It'd feel like you worked way too hard for it and that they only relented because they just got bored or curious and said, "Oh, what the hell," and then but only you'll be constantly waiting for them to get tired of you (who they never even really liked in the first place, so like, how can you possibly expect them to keep liking you until, you know, deathdoyoupart/forever/happilyeverafter and whatnot,) which will make life a living hell and far more stressful than it ever would have been if you'd just moved on the moment after she/he initially rejected you way back in the beginning.)

If someone doesn't share the same views as you, don't waste your time and effort trying to convince them to. (If anything, it's more likely to repel them.)

If you think someone has a false impression of you, don't waste your time and effort trying to correct that impression (you'll likely just solidify their false impression of you by doing so.)

If you know the right way to live, then you're probably doing it wrong.

The only thing worse than a poet who thinks they don't deserve love from anyone is a megalomaniac who thinks that everyone should love them more. (Sometimes I can't tell the difference.)

If you've been waiting for something to happen before you go and do that thing that you've been waiting to do for a long time, but only haven't allowed yourself to do it yet because you've been waiting for that something to happen first so that you'll then be ready to do it because that thing that you were waiting for has happened now and so it's time to finally go out there and do the thing that you were waiting to do because of the other thing that you were waiting on is over now so there's nothing left to use as an excuse to wait on doing it any longer for, only but now there's this whole other new thing that it seems you have to wait for to happen that came up as a result of that other thing that you were originally waiting for that you weren't expecting to happen as a result of the thing happening, and so now you're waiting for this other thing to happen before you go and do that thing that you've been waiting to do . . .

If you think you're being witty or clever, don't let on.

If you still can't figure out who you are and what you're about or what you truly believe in, even though you've been trying to so hard and for so long and doing all of this soul-searching in order to do so, then just give up.
(You'll finally figure it out shortly after.)

Is it sad that I think you may be all I've ever had?
Does it make you mad when I feel like I couldn't give two *****?
I've only ever just been living my life.
Sometimes I have a hard time of it.

Is it tragic that I know we won't make it together?
Is it sociopathic of me to mention it?
I want everything or nothing from you.
You make me feel conflicted.

In the resulting twisting mental state, I find something compelling.
I like how you press me for the answers,
though I'm not one for telling.

If you only knew the impact that you have on all my dreams.
It's the discrepancies of our feelings that makes me hold it back.
If you ever make the mistake of giving me a chance,
I swear,
I'd give you a heart attack.

Do you know that saying that goes:
"Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words will never hurt me?"
Of course you do -
everyone does.
Well, as far as I can tell,
poets feel the opposite.

I will spread my opinions like a plague,
which is exactly how they'll paint them.
By "them" I mean the proverbial "they."
The ones who will color me as paranoid and insane.

They'll say not to listen;
to disregard it all.
It's the nature of the games they play.
They push us to the edge,
Then publicize the fall.

Do not watch the news.
Ignore all commercials.
Pursue beauty and truth;
embrace the controversial.

"Any book worth banning is a book worth reading,"
so read them all with zest.
If you get the feeling that I'm preaching,
remember,
only you know what is best.

I suffer from a disease that goes by the name of Loneliness.
It's an ancient affliction;
some sick kind of curse,
and those who know it best often boast: it's the worst.

But every now and then,
I look around me to see some fat cow in the company of a dead-eyed chudd -
spewing out a slew of inanities for lack of the cud.
He finally shuts her up with a kiss on the mouth,
as they walk off hand in hand.

I think to myself:
"How in the hell did they find a cure,
but I can't?"

I swear I used to care
before I met you.
There was nothing left
after all you put me through.
They say I'm better off
but I seriously doubt it.
You stole all of my sympathy
and now I'm lost without it.

The varying degrees of them plus me
leaves a suffocating heat.
Please help with collecting these parts of we, as this is thus and such.
No thank you.

I am a fool
A tool
A rave roaring menace

A sinner
A devil
And I beg for no penance

Relief is to me
What work is to you
And so in this life
I'll live like a fool

In truth a man tries to be what he can
But deep down he thinks,
"I'd rather be what I am."

Understand this land
Of mountains and quick sand
Where one can rise to the top
Or sink through to the bottom

In autumn I see an array of leaves
Who wish in some sense to be more like me
Changing different colors before they die
Then lying down
Onto the ground
To make all fertilized

I try
I do
To be more like you
Until my heart goes dry
And my energy's used
Left dying and withering to form a pile of ash
Every missed opportunity,
You can't get back.

Like trash we pile
In a hurricane's eye
And our biggest denial
Is that we don't lie
Or that we don't mind
Or have no time
To give to someone else what I know to be mine.

Dance like no one can see you.
Dance like nobody's watching.
Dance naked in front of hundreds;
Arms flying -
Feet stompin'.

Sleep with a few of them,
then ignore the rest.
Send late night text messages that read:
"I like hanging out with you the best."
When in their company, speak in your own language.
Get drunk and lament how no one understands you.
Cry often.
Cry all the time.
When they offer you a shoulder,
act as if it's a crime.
Push them away.
Tell them you just want to be left alone.
Don't reply to their invites.
Don't answer your phone.
Unless you're in a crowd,
then stay glued to that thing.
If they play your favorite song,
do not sing.
If they buy you a drink,
don't buy them one back.
If they give you advice,
then go on the attack.
It's easy to lose all of your friends
once you've become a sociopath.

I've this bad habit of going to sleep fully clothed,
then waking up completely naked.
Not knowing for sure what happened in between.
How many of these things that I can barely remember ever actually happened?
How many were just dreams?

Lover of Disney.
Connoisseur of fairy tales.
With stories of lonely-girl-turned-princess
and wooden boys swallowed by whales
(just longing to be real).
Ever a believer in Happily Ever After.

I thought I could be your disaster.

I raged.
Hurricane gales with lightning and thunder.
Earthquakes and landslides.
Stormed into a blunder.

I thought you were frail,
but you're corrugated steel.
A bastion, a bulwark; impregnable.
A stronghold made up of shining white stone.

When the rampage was over,
the only foundation destroyed was my own.

I think of your poems when I'm in a crowd.
I memorize your lines and recite them out loud
into a sea of unsuspecting faces,
so that they fall in love with words, like I did yours;
strung together by the wisdom of your golden graces.

I want to bask in the glory of sharing your story,
and celebrate tonight in honor of you.
If I make your poetry a part of my life,
can I become a part of yours too?

I will tell you of their laughter and smiles.
How they wept, danced, rejoiced -
how the whole crowd went wild.

I want you to hear of their praises because I think you're divine.
I'll spend the rest of my days writing odes of thanks.
Forever indebted to you and your kind
for letting your words become mine.

Let's dig a well together,
then we'll fill it with all our dreams;
Precious gems, secret treasure,
a myriad of fantastical things.

So when reality gets caught in our throat,
and we get that feeling like we can't breathe,
we can just go out to the well that we've built.
We'll never again go thirsty.

And if a nightmare slips in -
attempting to poison our well -
we'll just fish it out,
and bury it in the backyard.

You bring the flowers,
I'll bring the shovel.

Poets are sociopaths
masquerading as artists
who've convinced themselves they know how to connect to other people
while having no clue where their own heart is.

Let this one go
Then wait for the others
Those were the men I once called my brothers
But I'm a chameleon
Now watch me change colors

This bridge has grown old
It's stood for too long
Bishop takes rook
No longer your pawn
Abracadabra
Now I'm gone

Sink to the sea
I'll try not to wonder
If you'll ever think of me
In so many colors

The step of a ladder
That has come to break
My soul is no longer yours to take
But I hope you don't think
That my feelings were fake

I'll hang on to the memories
That I know weren't in vain
Fleeting moments of bliss
Will remain in my brain
But I'm moving on now
Things can't stay the same

I coat all my canvas
In so many paints
You help me discover
The color of my mistakes

You're so sweet
I think I'll need dental work before this operation is complete
I intend to fill your cavity

Just a routine cleaning
I'm clearing out this buildup inside of me
Transfusing it into you
Open wide and say "Ah"

Tricky temptress
What's your damage
A throbbing tumescence
An internal hemorrhage
Count slowly back from ten while I put you under

Prepared for the incision
I handle my tool with precision
My IV dripped solution has got all these patients wishin'

I will donate this ***** to whoever needs a heart

I heard her sing a silent song.
By the time I'd learned the words,
she was already gone.

She wasn't here for very long,
but I am still haunted by her verse.
I heard her sing a silent song.

It resonated in my bones.
I vibrated with yearning.
She was already gone.

A mute melody to quell the dawn,
and keep the world from turning.
I heard her sing a silent song.

Like a whisper from the moon to hold back the sun,
I close my eyes and I’m no longer sure
if she's really gone.

Imprinted in the earth after the eclipse was done;
her lyrics washed up on the shore.
I heard her sing that silent song,
but she was already gone.

Things fall off these shelves as if fulfilling their innermost secret desires to rest somewhere else.
We take these things and arrange them with the utmost care
Hoping to leave an impression on anyone wanton enough to stare
"Look at my Creation!
Admire my eye for detail
My magnificent use of composition
The originality
It's so unique
I take these things and make something which all the starved seek
This juxtaposition of so many different things
My inspiration?
Well, really, it's just a physical manifestation of everything that makes up me
Everything is a self portrait, if you know what I mean"
wink wink
But these things, they think; HOW DARE HE!
and in your sleep
they fall from the mirror
to drown down the sink
in order to be free from your artistic tyranny

That and these and this and those
And in Spanish it's asombroso
And I just want you to text me first
So that I may practice my drunken verse

I wish it didn't have to be this way
I wish you could understand the things I say
But I've a history of being misunderstood
I'd teach you if I could
But I'm not sure if I should

I just want you to know how I feel
Honestly it's the only way to make it seem real
I've often told people my problem is that I'm emotionally detached
I'm hoping you can help me to take my feelings back

But where have they been?
I guess I don't know
Scattered through so many parts of the globe
Sometimes I feel I've exhausted them all
Way back with my mother when I was still small

Do I bother you?
I can clearly see why
I often delete your number until you reply

There was this one time
With this one guy
Who I once told that he was my best friend in life
He smoked DMT earlier in the night
Of which I refrained because I'd already seen the light

He proceeded to get to drunk
And he's got quite the temper
Then placed his hands around my neck and said something I'll always remember:
"Stop telling me how to think!"
It deeply affected me
And I accepted my fate of being strangled at a party
But then he let up
And I swear I felt let down
And struggled for weeks with the many revelations that I'd found

Am I a monster?
Am I obscene?
I always thought I was nice
But now I know that I'm mean
I can't bear the weight of how it all seems
Can't deal with these feelings
Don't know what they mean
And the worst part is
When he was choking me
I didn't panic
And I didn't scream
Because it was the way I've seen it ending so many times in my dreams
And when he couldn't go through with it,
I swear
I was angry

You funny.
I can be funny too.
I've got a functioning funny bone,
just like you.
Watch me hit it on this thing.
Ouch!
Hey, wasn't that funny though?
Didn't you see?
Let me tell you a joke:
There once was this guy who set out to type a joke,
but halfway through it his funny bone broke!
Ouch.

This one time, I traded cigarettes for jokes with a few of the homeless folk who live in Orlando.
I was still in high school then, but I can still remember how they went!
Well, actually, I can only recall two of them.
They go like this:

"If you have fifty ***** and fifty politicians in the same room,
then what do you have?"

"Um, I don't know."

"A hundred people who don't know **** about ****!"

Hahahahahahaha

"What do you call a *** on roller blades?"

"Hmm, no idea."

"Rolaids!"

You speak the language of despair.
I can hear you calling out from the depths of hell.
I know because I've been there.
My dear, I understand all too well.
Slowly killing yourself, but nobody cares.
Truth of the matter is, they're just scared.

You're the manifestation of all their worst fears.
A reflection of their darkest desires.
Everything they try to repress:
(drugs, rock n' roll, ***.)
Dancing with the devil in fire.
They close their eyes to it.
No wonder they're so distressed.

But there's another class out there,
and of them, I say,
Beware!
They don't understand but pretend to care.
Their lives are such a bore that they'll drink from your sins.
They'll tell you encouraging words as you struggle to swim.
But you're nothing more than a jester to them.
If you ever make it to the shore,
they'll just push you back in.

It's not too cold of a night for a walk
Even if this one was not by choice
I'm not sorry for being so drunk
I only ever wanted to hear your sweet voice

Even if the only words it told me were,
"*******!"
Sometimes it's the little things that mean so much

Your spirits weren't as bright as I remember
I suppose my own had something to do with that
I'm not sorry for losing your number
Just kind of sorry that you won't give it back

But I'm never sorry for the things that I do
I just wanted to see how things were working out
Sometimes I really do worry about you
You said that I'm the one I should be worried about

Your hair color has changed
Your pajamas said "Somebody Loves Me"
That might be true in more than one way
More ways than you seem to need

I tried my best not to look back
But I know you stood in the doorway as I walked off
Sometimes it's the little things that mean so much
Sometimes a walk in the cold is enough

1.. A man obsessed with self-improvement. He only falls for women who make him "want to be a better man." He becomes that better man, then leaves them.

2. Horror aficionado who's obsessed with death; falls in love with women who are dead on the inside.

3, 4, 5, 6. A gay man falls in love with a straight man.
A straight woman falls in love with a gay man.
A straight man falls in love with a gay woman.
A gay woman falls in love with a straight woman.

7. A ****** falls in love with a **** star.

8. A strategic genius falls in love, then treats every action and word as maneuvers in some elaborate game that she has no idea is even being played. He loses.

9. A drug addict falls in love with anyone.

10. Momma's boy who hates his mother; only falls for women he can't stand.

11. Bored sociopath/criminal moves to a new town and tries to convince  the locals that he's afraid of everything (so that they won't suspect him of doing anything remotely dangerous). A woman who actually is afraid of everything feels bad for him and tries her best to comfort him. He falls in love with her.

Every poem I ever wrote is nothing but a sticky note,
with keywords written to remind me of all but forgotten memories.

Ouiqewrgmofcu8qerh gpueirth qjeirhg iureh gpe9urgh p9owrih t9uiwerjkedlvgjadsbgia;jdsfhg; pueoh r132Y8GT QU4IWR HG ALKDBSLGIJKAwdsjgb ldjfgb laj dgb liakrehp guijlawgerig kkhabefjk

Left wing to the right wing,
and in between - almost everything.

Spin it back to the first track,
then move ahead - no turning back.

Spread them out,
now we're flying.

A feeling with no reason to doubt.

Hey girl, don't get me wrong
I just think that we could be friends
It'd be nice to have a confidant again
Instead of telling strangers all of my sins
I'm ready for a new life
Just waiting to begin

I know you may find me a bit intense
Or maybe you think that I make no sense
And I'm not sure what I like about you
Your humor
Your wit
Your innocence?

Be that what it may
And me being what I am
I still want to be your friend
Do you think we can?

Compound noun

1. Time spent thinking about someone who is not around; whether remembering time shared in the past, or having fantasies of what could happen with them in the future.

2. Time spent reading, listening, or watching the work produced by someone who is dead. Also, time spent having imaginary conversations with someone who is dead.

Examples:
I know he was dead before I was even born, but the ghost time I've spent with Henry David Thoreau makes it feel like we're old friends.

He hardly even knows who she is, but he's spent so much ghost time with her that he thinks he's in love.

Oh, what a suit;
what fine noble thread,
below blinding pearly whites
and such a nice hair of head.

"Lose a little now to gain twice as much later.
Don't be a dope," (schmuck, fool, sucker.)
That's what he said through sharpened teeth.
I should've known better than to believe a single thing.

A wolf invited himself inside and talked me into buying his sheepskin suit, but it turns out that he was a fox disguised as a wolf in sheep's clothing, and so I bought the wolf's skin too.

"A two-for-one deal,
whaddaya say?"


I can't believe I fell for a walking cliché.

Here it is; my body of work
Lately I've been showing off the other kind
Not that I'm complaining though
It has been such a long time

So what is going on inside my head?
Feeling fear, and doubt, and nervous
Pretty soon I'll start confusing you
Accidentally on purpose

With all this space around me
How can I feel like I need more?
"You should know that I'm nothing but a lousy,
Selfish, drunken man-*****."

These and other ways to leave your lover
Before the loving even starts
Paul Simon never wrote this tune
I've got that **** on lock

Burning bridges while they're being built
Such an unsubtle self-saboteur
Way to go there hot shot
What the hell did you do that for