I'm not going to beg, dear.
You might love to wallow-
feel like you're on your last leg, here.
But while I rather swallow
my pride and be hollow-
than be filled
with the anticipation,
I don't have the patience to deal
with your to and fro,
side to side,
out with it already,
I know that you lied.
And I just don't care anymore
but I
don't want to be here
waiting for you
to be strong.
I wanted to lay there
and hold you up to the stars
forget about who
who is wrong.
I know you know
we've got something good,
but I just can't push
anymore.
It's time for you to pump your legs,
and swing yourself,
a little higher.
a little farther.
I can no longer really bother
putting in mine,
when you can't find yours.