I’m sitting here drunk on stolen ***
Staring at the bottle I’ve been drinking from
Empty of virtue, empty of sin
Wishing for a swig of hundred-year gin.
My thoughts are wandering, or nonexistent,
Anything that comes is insufficient.
It’s just a craving to fill a space
Left by someone who stole my taste.
It’s not the juice that has me tipsy
Considering I’ve been playing gypsy
Travelling to nowhere, dragging my heart
Watching my soul being spread apart.
It’s the fear of falling, both in love and out,
Never knowing what you’re about.
It’s the sense of drowning, of being pulled under,
Of feeling the crash but empty of thunder,
The mixed interactions, the constant rash questions,
Attempting to sprint nine different directions,
Seeing you write all the truths I’ve been told
Then watching each lie slowly gently unfold.
It’s sickening me, I thought I knew you
Until I saw your true colors come through.
I felt secure, as though I had sight
Dancing and kissing under forty watt light
Singing and laughing, feeling your touch,
Then experiencing the words “this is too much.”
It’s like standing on concrete and feeling it crack
Opening a paintbox and finding all black.
I’m so over this game, this half-hearted living
Falling for feelings that aren’t so forgiving
But I can’t seem to detach myself from the curse
It’s a destructive addiction, and it only gets worse.
I’m not even angry, I don’t even want blood,
I’m just sick of feeling like I’m running in mud
So I need some protection, a blanket I’ve sewn
Of lessons I’ve learned and people I’ve known.
It’s not that I’m fearful, I still want the passion,
I’m just not getting trampled by your misguided actions.
In a sense I’m surrounded, my heart’s walls are high
But I’m willing to open if you’re willing to try.
Don’t think that you have to be perfect for me
Just tell me the truth, allow me to see.
We can even forget to give it a name
Friendly but physical, I can play that game
Just whatever you do, don’t call it love
Cause that isn’t the feeling I was thinking of.
If we can be honest, we can be friends
But as far as I care, that’s where it ends.
So as I huddle alone, soft focused with wine
No sense of direction, just killing time
I expose my still heart, and find it rubbed raw
From escaping the weight of confusion’s cold claw
I’m drinking it numb, constricting the light
Fervently sipping the froth of a pint
It makes me uneasy, but goes down like silk
As though I’m gulping thick sweetened milk
I need a sense of emotional healing
But crave the completeness of warm unfeeling
I want to get high, but then it’s easy to fall
Deliciously nervous then crushed from it all
So I’d rather shoot whisky, let it burn down my throat
Contemplate every ****** I wrote
Purposefully killing whatever’s inside
So I can forget about it, stop trying to hide
Each time I felt stupid, each time I got ******
Gripping for something that didn’t exist.
But don’t think this stopped me, I’ll sober up soon
But you’ll always be hung-over past noon.
Your selfishness suits you, so I guess the ultimate test
Is seeing whose love life comes out for the best.
I’m not one for pining, I’ve had my last drink
Contrary to what ever **** you might think
I’m telling you otherwise, if you think that I care
Please get over yourself and try growing a pair.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
I’m sitting here drunk on stolen ***
Staring at the bottle I’ve been drinking from
Empty of virtue, empty of sin
Wishing for a swig of hundred-year gin.
My thoughts are wandering, or nonexistent,
Anything that comes is insufficient.
It’s just a craving to fill a space
Left by someone who stole my taste.
It’s not the juice that has me tipsy
Considering I’ve been playing gypsy
Travelling to nowhere, dragging my heart
Watching my soul being spread apart.
It’s the fear of falling, both in love and out,
Never knowing what you’re about.
It’s the sense of drowning, of being pulled under,
Of feeling the crash but empty of thunder,
The mixed interactions, the constant rash questions,
Attempting to sprint nine different directions,
Seeing you write all the truths I’ve been told
Then watching each lie slowly gently unfold.
It’s sickening me, I thought I knew you
Until I saw your true colors come through.
I felt secure, as though I had sight
Dancing and kissing under forty watt light
Singing and laughing, feeling your touch,
Then experiencing the words “this is too much.”
It’s like standing on concrete and feeling it crack
Opening a paintbox and finding all black.
I’m so over this game, this half-hearted living
Falling for feelings that aren’t so forgiving
But I can’t seem to detach myself from the curse
It’s a destructive addiction, and it only gets worse.
I’m not even angry, I don’t even want blood,
I’m just sick of feeling like I’m running in mud
So I need some protection, a blanket I’ve sewn
Of lessons I’ve learned and people I’ve known.
It’s not that I’m fearful, I still want the passion,
I’m just not getting trampled by your misguided actions.
In a sense I’m surrounded, my heart’s walls are high
But I’m willing to open if you’re willing to try.
Don’t think that you have to be perfect for me
Just tell me the truth, allow me to see.
We can even forget to give it a name
Friendly but physical, I can play that game
Just whatever you do, don’t call it love
Cause that isn’t the feeling I was thinking of.
If we can be honest, we can be friends
But as far as I care, that’s where it ends.
So as I huddle alone, soft focused with wine
No sense of direction, just killing time
I expose my still heart, and find it rubbed raw
From escaping the weight of confusion’s cold claw
I’m drinking it numb, constricting the light
Fervently sipping the froth of a pint
It makes me uneasy, but goes down like silk
As though I’m gulping thick sweetened milk
I need a sense of emotional healing
But crave the completeness of warm unfeeling
I want to get high, but then it’s easy to fall
Deliciously nervous then crushed from it all
So I’d rather shoot whisky, let it burn down my throat
Contemplate every ****** I wrote
Purposefully killing whatever’s inside
So I can forget about it, stop trying to hide
Each time I felt stupid, each time I got ******
Gripping for something that didn’t exist.
But don’t think this stopped me, I’ll sober up soon
But you’ll always be hung-over past noon.
Your selfishness suits you, so I guess the ultimate test
Is seeing whose love life comes out for the best.
I’m not one for pining, I’ve had my last drink
Contrary to what ever **** you might think
I’m telling you otherwise, if you think that I care
Please get over yourself and try growing a pair.
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