I'm romanticizing the sound of trumpets, telling myself they hit the notes in your name, because god himself knows i lost my voice while i was screaming for you in the dark

So I've sat around smoking 25 cent cigarettes with a little extra "**** me", hoping I'll finally escape the Judas of my brain, but only with the solace of your razor touch

Last night it started raining, so i played in it like i dreamt of doing with you. It didn't live up to the expectations in my head, seeing as i was only soaked in jealousy, so i pretended to be the gravel in the street

Tonight the cashier informed me that i can't buy cigarettes with extra "**** me", so I've upgraded to expensive whiskey; it still won't **** me, but it numbs my demons enough to sleep.