Give me passion soaked in remorse and sweat between these empty venue walls and all your burned out cigarettes, thinking "oh God, I've seen it all."
I forgot the melody I've been singing up and down these God forsaken halls and I've been feeling down and out, it ain't the same now since you've gone.
It ain't the same. Since you've been gone. It ain't the same. Since you've been gone.
And I was kind of hoping this time I would come around. And I was kind of hoping this time I'd stop freaking out. And I was kind of hoping that this time I'd stop hoping for anything worth hoping to finally come around.
You and I have hands of bone. And when the darkness comes, we are all alone.
It's become exhausting being a caricature of a human. All at once, I'm too over-the-top to be considered normal and much to internalized to have real depth with the people I wish to have depth with.
And god knows, I've gotten better at being honest. Not that I was much for lying, at least in perhaps the most traditional sense of the word. But I certainly was incapable of having real human interaction. Maybe it was fear that kept me frozen and unable to communicate what I wanted most to say.
Surely, it was a defense mechanism. It's a lot harder to be disappointed by someone when you refuse to let them be close to you. And it's certainly a lot harder for someone to break you into insignificant pieces when you don't allow them any hold on you.
But somehow being distant because of the fear of people breaking you leaves you even more vulnerable to it. I lost ----- because I couldn't be a real person.
I lost you too.
And perhaps it's too late to make amends and say, "I swear I'm not quite as horrible a person as I've pretended to be. The caricature I've become is definitely not what I intended to be."
But I just want you to know that I'm trying to be honest. And I'm trying to be happy.