There's a problem stuck under my fingernails
Bleeding into the cracks that the last one left
Because your eyes never seem to hold still
Long enough for me to catch them

But I'm chasing you
And I'm chasing you
And I don't know why I'm still chasing you
Around bent street signs all stamped with disinterest

I guess it's just because I'm still hoping you'll be there tonight
You're a parasite
But whenever the rain comes to wash you away
You only burry deeper in my skin

Everything in front of me is grey. Grey or an off-grey shade of almost grey. I'm an off-grey shade of almost dead.
This isn't a game of horseshoes.

You are or you aren't, and I'm definitively not. I'm not the microcosm of anything bigger than this, and there is nothing bigger than this.

The walls are crawling and I can't, and I swear to god that pain is something I'll never feel again. I just feel bottomless.