You were just standing around
waiting for me to forget my own tricks.
It's not like I was in the best state of mind
to be remembering them anyway.
I was holding my hands and bending my knees.
Swaying from side to side.
Watching a broken television from 1999.
(Wishing something good was on).
I know **** is artifical
but I still like to repeate it when you call.
I'm comfortable enough to *** infront of you,
but I'll never tell you those kinds of secrets.
My face is numb with fat
and whenever I try to talk,
my jaw breaks.
I can smell your gum with my eyes,
and it's delicious.
I'm screaming about religion
and telling you I'm gay.
Nothing is accepted,
and insults are just words without real meaning.
Sincerety isn't in the tone,
it's in the meaning.
I want my ideas to stand out
but I hate reading in italics.
Things are changing
and old feelings are fading.
Dying quietly in the corner
so as not to make a scene.
It happens to everyone
if you know what I mean.
I forgot how to write,
I forgot how to think,
I'm surprised I'm alive,
I forgot how to breathe.
