My walls have nicotine tears
And my eyes have had bags for years
I want to start a folk punk band
I can't sing so I'll scream
Do something productive in a long time
Only felt freedom when crossing state lines
Going down streets and avenues
With the thought of you

My father has died but isn't dead yet
Feed me half truths and hard times
I'll let them digest
I've been moving on in my own way
Seems no progress but I digress
All these visions of you
Make me wish I had seen you less
I still pace like it keeps me calm
Counting steps,holding you till you slept counting breaths
Counting steps
Down the stairs ,up the driveway and out my life

Bukoswki had roses in a closet , I've got pictures and notes in a shoebox
I think no closure even if we had talked.
I would still self destruct if you hadn't walked
I still can't face my refection in the mirror
I still can't stand to alone,never in public
I still shake like a leaf on a tree,I'm not holding you and December is getting nearer

Do you ever think of me ?
As a bad decision,a waste of time , the wrong boy at the wrong time.
You probably don't and that's for the best.
I hate myself just so we can have something in common
I don't want to but I have to be honest.