Maybe my family remembers, but who can withstand the gloom? So I find myself alone again in this familiar padded room Double portions at breakfast Served in styrofoam with cold, unsweetened tea..
There's nothing on the TV so I write poems on the wall And if it falls apart, the chemicals might help to embrace the fall, but I guess I'd rather spiral if falling feels a little more like me..
At night, my thoughts are racing Shady deals, extinguished flames, and times spent under streetlights playing codependent games I'm a slave to what's familiar.. though nothing seems to ever stay the same.
I know what they're going to say I know what they want to hear I know the tone of their frustration After 5 or 6 times this year and for me it's all familiar, but most these people barely know my name.