I don't seem do this well,
sitting at the table
pretending everything is alright.
I'd rather sit
in the corner of the bedroom
and listen to beautiful nothing
than listen to voices drip blood
on razor blade silence.

Promises have no meaning to them.
Absolutely none.
But I will give you
everything I've got
to have everything make since-
and then suddenly ill disappear.
                                                                                     Gone without a trace.

Life shouldn't be this busy
when I'm sitting on this floor
wondering what to do.
The answer is on my fingers
playing these strings...
                                                                                             *This is the one.