This isn't what i hoped i'd have to say. it's nothing that you
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want to hear. to say that nothing's changed would be understating
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understatement. things change, times change- i remain the same,
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but (only) distantly familiar. is this the way it is or just the
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way i've let it be? i lie, i cheat, i steal, i kill. if i could
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sleep, i dream of having reasons to wake up. they lie, they cheat,
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they steal, they kill. and every night they fall asleep content.
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it's not depression for depression's sake, or desperation for a
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song. this is every day. this is all i know. so sick of days
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dreading the nights. so tired of fighting to keep off the lights.
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so sick of searching for what's going to make it right. and now
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you're sick of the same song? i'm sick of writing it. falling apart
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when nothings wrong. I wish i could could write a line, a sentence,
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or a word that could pretend for long enough to give you what you
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want. i wish i could write a line, a sentence, or a word that could
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pretend for long enough to tell me what i want. but there's no
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resolution here, i've learned better than to wish. there's no
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resolution here. there is only this.
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-----------------
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Part II (Motel Art)
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| Killing The Dream |
