Jan 2013
Funny feeling this. Sense of loss. Who could’ve thought it would have ended like this. Because I never cared or gave a second thought. I filled my life with a roundabout of drama, it took my mind off this. Of what I should have done or be doing. The guilt crept in and I melted it away with money and pride. Who am I, when it all burns out, who am I? We fill ourselves up with what we think we should do, be or what they think. What does it all mean in the end? What was the purpose of that kiss, that word, that heartfelt moment? That hug that meant so much, the way my head was turned, the way you woke me at 4 in the morning to laugh about something random. It was something, that was nothing. I’ve been down this road before.
I spent the night lying on your kitchen floor, because I had never known words like yours before. I could not lie next to you knowing this was what you felt. I could not have made it better with the cards I was dealt. I am sorry for knowing how to be. I thought being myself was enough to be free. Tho I cried and weeped into your linoleum, I whispered words in to your fridge door. I thought I had been heard every time the lights came on. But you never checked on me. You walked straight past the door. I thought I was your forever more. I lost track of time. I lost the touch of your skin upon mine. Your lips, my god, they were lost. I cannot remember your face the last time you smiled. I am sorry. To feel this way.
Such a sense of loss. I cried over you. At what it had cost. Us. And yet in all grand schemes, what does it matter; what did it mean? I can’t help it if you made me feel good. What with the Jacobs Creek wasn’t it was meant to be? Funny feeling this. Sense of loss. Sense of bliss. Being able to smile when I want to die. Without you. I wonder if you think of me. If you remember me in the quiet times. And I like to think you do. And I smile a half smile because I am half paralysed by you. Maybe I have sinned, maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is not real, but something to make you think I have wrote a real song. Because I felt bad, I regretted my woes and still you, yes you, made it worse than what I already had.
Funny feeling this, this sense of loss. Nothing can quite erase the pain. And I have nothing to take you away. No painkiller, no chardonnay, no woman, can make you quite. Go. Away. Go. Away. No more making thoughts in my head. Seeing you reminds me of being dead. Of living without breath. Of being the **** in the situation in my own head. No nothing whilst you go on, go on, with yourself, living your majestic life, can make this situation any better. Baby steps eh? Sorry I must repeat, sorry; I always am, I can be no less. Loss, a familiar thing you would think. Eh? God this is so confusing, when will you stop being what I don’t want you to be?
I spent the night lying on your kitchen floor, because I had never known words like yours before. I could not lie next to you knowing this was what you felt. I could not have made it better with the cards I was dealt. I am sorry for knowing how to be. I thought being myself was enough to be free. Tho I cried and weeped into your linoleum, I whispered words in to your fridge door. I thought I had been heard every time the lights came on. But you never checked on me. You walked straight past the door. I thought I was your forever more. I lost track of time. I lost the touch of your skin upon mine. Your lips, my god, they were lost. I cannot remember your face the last time you smiled. I am sorry. To feel this way.
Such a sense of loss. I cried over you. At what it had cost. Us. And yet in all grand schemes, what does it matter; what did it mean? I can’t help it if you made me feel good. What with the Jacobs Creek wasn’t it was meant to be? Funny feeling this. Sense of loss. Sense of bliss. Being able to smile when I want to die. Without you. I wonder if you think of me. If you remember me in the quiet times. And I like to think you do. And I smile a half smile because I am half paralysed by you. Maybe I have sinned, maybe I was wrong. Maybe this is not real, but something to make you think I have wrote a real song. Because I felt bad, I regretted my woes and still you, yes you, made it worse than what I already had.
Funny feeling this, this sense of loss. Nothing can quite erase the pain. And I have nothing to take you away. No painkiller, no chardonnay, no woman, can make you quite. Go. Away. Go. Away. No more making thoughts in my head. Seeing you reminds me of being dead. Of living without breath. Of being the **** in the situation in my own head. No nothing whilst you go on, go on, with yourself, living your majestic life, can make this situation any better. Baby steps eh? Sorry I must repeat, sorry; I always am, I can be no less. Loss, a familiar thing you would think. Eh? God this is so confusing, when will you stop being what I don’t want you to be?
