I lost pieces of you,
I lost your love,
Your bright smile,
That sparkle in your eyes,
But way beneath the core of my heart,
I know the traces of these pieces are within your soul,
Lurking behind your ego,
That pride and hate in your eyes,
The greed for money and many more,
You aren't going anywhere with it.
One day you'll wake up and remember,
Who you really are,
And who I was,
But by that time I'll be gone,
And its gonna be too late,
Realization will leave you nowhere,
But alone and guilty.

Sometimes,
I wish I could quit.
The drinking,
the smoking,
the maybe-too-frequent drug use.
I know I'm just chasing the high I got,
from you.
But you're gone and not coming back.
"A man's gotta do,
What a man's gotta do."
At least that's what they tell me.

Stumbling around in the same circle
Only hearing words that are hurtful
My hand cover my ears
My eyes flooded with tears
Make up running down my face
Mind racing all over the place

Questions spin
In the end, did you win?
Was it something I wore...that made you call me a *****?
Could I have done more...to keep you from walking out the door?
My heart you tore...and you threw the halves on the floor?!

The first boy to say "I love you"
And the first boy to say "I hate you"
Said I was perfection
Now you can add my heart to your collection

This is the only place that I'll feel safe,
Pace the floors of my beat up faith,
Stoke the fire, stoke the flames,
Remind me of why I feel ashamed,

You warn me that it’s most unwise,
To keep these scales upon my eyes,
Well Hades is calling out to me,
He says: “Take my hand Persephone”,

I lived to please, I swam to drown,
And take this all whilst lying down,
But then you cried: “Girl, come undone,
You're the earth, the moon, the sand and sun

Many daze in the rippsy tav the Nates will hiber by their Glit
'N sometime prea with the gigaslav and there zellgreth betwit.

Now once there was a Tilly Stoet who'd paineram in the dippserill
Nifty Nates would knowet and greal it's very Tips-a-Prill

A day or more had passed in tyme till one day the gigaslav broke
Now Tilly Stoets speak of brine 'n the merryjaunah they'd smoke.

Oh they'd **** there poppers 'n slop their drippers
'Till one day the pole greasemen came.

The Tilly Stoets acted like poets and that was really O.K.
But the buzzers were fuzzers and wouldn't ya knowet

They took all there pots away.