i don't think i'm complex,
i don't think i'm worthy of love.
all those things the stars sing,
they sing so far away from me.
the kind of love i give to strangers,
i forget it's given to me.
i can't see when i'm loved,
i don't know if i'm loved,
i spend tomorrow trying.
there is no lighthouse to my storm,
no beacon to follow for all my years.
my blueprint to doing things wrong,
at the time it felt right,
that sweet relief of selling time.
now i'm still here,
sitting in the same skin,
but i still hear those stars sing,
drawing my morbid curiosity,
drowning is just another part of living.
whatever gaps the dead leave behind,
life fills them with such sorrow,
until you pray for another fire.
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 2:39 AM UTC
i don't think i'm complex,
i don't think i'm worthy of love.
all those things the stars sing,
they sing so far away from me.
the kind of love i give to strangers,
i forget it's given to me.
i can't see when i'm loved,
i don't know if i'm loved,
i spend tomorrow trying.
there is no lighthouse to my storm,
no beacon to follow for all my years.
my blueprint to doing things wrong,
at the time it felt right,
that sweet relief of selling time.
now i'm still here,
sitting in the same skin,
but i still hear those stars sing,
drawing my morbid curiosity,
drowning is just another part of living.
whatever gaps the dead leave behind,
life fills them with such sorrow,
until you pray for another fire.
