Thoughts berate with little truth While memories choose when to lie Often words spoken change nothin' Though time and time again they try Feel free to take your unspoken to the grave What is spun by the victor is sung forever A good liar proclamation should have been taken as a warning But judgment sees through even the best of pretender
I sit down to write A particular piece I don't want to keep writing about pain My muse and I fight We don't find any peace My desire buckles under the strain
My heart gets crushed And cracks once more It leaks through from the ducts of the eyes As it makes it's way down The carved out paths on my face I can't forget to remember the painful why's
I don't like how much I cry But I feel every drop They are such a constant I don't know if it'll ever stop I also don't know what to say All I can offer is a bucket and a mop Due to the fact I'm the cause of each one A truth I have to cop
How do you tell someone That you've made it further in life Than you thought you could, Than you might, At times, Have even wanted to, Much less thought you would?