Broken Thoughts…

The signs were there all along
Lighting the way for the climax
Illuminating the inevitable fall
Who does this to them, to ourselves
Statistically speaking one and the same
Reality couldn’t be any further apart
Looked so good on paper
It had to work at least once
What could all this really mean
To someone who doesn’t care
I gave up but we took turns
Statistically speaking one or both should be dead by now
Still fucking breathing in all the pain
Still thinking about all the shit never said
If we can’t be honest then why worry about the truth?
Inhuman to think this all began with a bunch of lies
Written down in tiny font, thin paper flapping in the wind
Against the sands of time nothing can last
But everything will be fine

Give in is to die but I’ve been dead for so long…

65 pages on the same thought
Six albums and I’ve already forgot
Therapy couldn’t be any simpler
If only it had worked the first time
Revisiting the same sad thoughts
That makes me so fucked up
Dancing with the devil couldn’t release these demons
Gods warm embrace hasn’t done much to subside the pain
Out of options and ways to say
I can’t stand the fact that you exist
So I’ll see you there
Pretend to not care but I always will
No matter how much I stab at the thoughts
Burn them down and piss on the ashes
They will still be there, we will still be here

Like memories burning in the sun…

Spoke the words, told you once before
Each little thought isn’t a metaphor
So worried about me, but not yourself
Blind, too blind to see the real hurt
Deaf, too deaf to hear the real words
Soft spoken and I know it hurt long before
Each little syllable even made a noise
So worried about you, but not myself
Numb, too numb to feel the real pain
Bland, too bland to taste the real thoughts
Pulling the strings tighter
Until I could never see, hear, touch, or taste
Ever again

Broken Thoughts

tick… tick… ticking right on by… locked in this stupid mask… stuck between the space between the skin and the leather… gets lonely in here at times… beads of sweat dripping down… the smell only grows worse… but there is no better place to call home… think things could be better… could be worse… or they could always be the same… at least for at least sake… things could be… trying to remember why it is that I keep going… while thinking of every reason to call it quits… stuck somewhere in between… the skin and the razorblade… time is only tick… tick… ticking by…

Merch… Teespring… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

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