And It's true, I was on you For a week or maybe two In your arms, you know that's all In your love, I couldn't fall This shouldn't be a maze To take the wrong left And that is the past Baby, that's the past Everything was great While we made it last I still eat your go-to snack And I still like that band I'm still writing songs That sound less than grand Though I promise that I'm Gonna hold this one out My heart and my mind Needed to leave the crowd I've got jet black jeans For a brand new waist If everything still fit I would never change While I loved your company My heart beats on my sleeve And you know it's not there You are not the one for me
I'm impatient. And restless. Something good should have happened. I can't predict tomorrow, So I hate today. Yesterday hurt. Along with the day before that. I'm not haunted, or dramatically morose. But I'm waiting. Every day. And every day feels the same. The faces and scenarios are different. Maybe these memories will Seem important or joyful In 7 years. Right now I don't feel them though. Changes don't rock me. I'm not afraid of happiness or pain, Just the same.
The same routine I sit and scheme My words will set me free. I have my mind I have my pen so nothing can silence me. Words are drawn on the page created one by one. They tell the story of a broken man. On a search for something different, something new. Day in and day out the same routine at hand. It's time for him to grow up It's time to be a man. Change is part of life and that's just how it goes. But when life doesn't change at all that's when he begins to question it all.
I am in a rut an awful rut that I don’t know how to get out of I find myself reaching for different things to bring me comfort I’m not even for sure what I need what I’m searching for It’s like I have gone numb It’s like I’m stuck in this current emotion and can’t get out I’m bored yet content but sad yet feeling okay I have felt on the verge of tears for the past few days and I don’t know why I don’t know what my body is waiting for It’s like I’m waiting for something to break me
When shall I get out of this rut? Counting down the hours until I can go Only five and a half now, but I'll be back next weekend, I know.
And only thirty dollar bills a day, for what? To get hit and kicked and yelled at I'd rather get payed for selling my body like a **** Or maybe I'll be a professional eater and become professionally fat.
Pure disgust is all I have to say Until next time, dreadful day.