You really can’t make a mistake without people finding out
That you struggled and that you hurt their friends
That you lied and how do they know you won’t lie again
And how you didn’t consider anyone else’s feeling in the confusion of it all

They know everything about you except for the remorse you feel
How could you regret anything when you didn't stop
Or how you just couldn't stand the weight on your shoulders
That crushed any hope of coming out of this alive

People will always know you as the one who made someone else’s life a living hell
But they will not once consider
The hell of being you
And living with the pieces

We like to blow smoke out of your bedroom window
It helps us sleep at night
We like to blow smoke out of your bedroom window
It helps us not to fight
We hold it in the best we can
And then let our stress melt away
We like to blow smoke out of your bedroom window
We do it every day

Our life has been enveloped by the smoke that we breathe out
But I don’t really mind one bit
Living with a little doubt

I wish I had the imagination of Kurt Vonnegut
So that I could travel through time on my own
And so I could accept death
And so I could accept that not one thing can be changed at all

Short haired girls are always better
They love more deeply and write more letters
They aren’t held back by terrible weather
Short haired girls are always better

If you saw her on the street
Your heart would skip a couple beats
And you would see it is no feat
For short haired girls to compete

Short haired girls are always better
They love more deeply and write more letters
And if you look into her eyes
You’ll see the sadness she tries to hide

There are six posters on one wall
And nothing on the other three
There are four blankets on the bed
Two pillows but not one sheet
About fifty books on the shelf
Only half of them read
Plastic bottles in a plastic bag
I can’t bear to throw them away
All the movies are shoved in the corner
Along with the motivation I used to have
I keep the records next to my bed
Because I like to sleep near the things I love
And whenever I’m tired of the clothes I wear
I can just shut the closet door

It doesn't matter how much you wish
You just can't and that will never change
And the universe will move on
Whether you accept it
Or not

I just felt too deeply.

To write is to feel
And to feel is to be doomed