The news that I'm not getting better
I would say is entirely true
If better is not crying at every last thought
And news means it hasn't got to you.
It travels too fast for me to catch up
Which I say like I wanted it to
But I never thought I'd decline like this
That I'd push away my one of the few.
Tonight I'll have dreams of my laughter
And wander around houses of glass
Resist all impulses to break down the walls
With the sticks and the stones of my past.
I'll regret all the choices that I ever have made
Apologize for what I have done
Shove feel-better statements down my plugged-up throat
And accept that I might as well be shunned.
I'll lock myself up in this mountain of glass
Look through glass that I'll wish you won't see
My appearance is enough to explain to you
I'm too broken to convey any feelings.