Morning breaks over the Midwest.
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A silent, lonely porch swing rocking,
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The television glows.
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Another night spent crumbling,
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Just listening to you moan.
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You monkey with a microphone.
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Your redundant, useless voice
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Constantly a dull and distant noise.
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You're just screaming into the wind.
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You're just screaming into the wind.
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I'm focusing my hate.
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But it's hollow, unsubstantiated.
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You're an easy mark,
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And I just need a target right now.
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I can't face myself.
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I can't honestly own up to who I am.
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I'm just screaming into the wind.
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I'm just screaming into the wind.
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Guilt is relative.
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So is sin.
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It makes it easy to pretend.
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A bicycle is humming and it's carrying me home.
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The sun is red and headed for the west.
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I'm finding ways to rearrange me.
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I should be content, but I'm still terrified
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Cause I can't tell a realization, a rationalization, or nostalgia from regret.
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Oh no.
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I'm just screaming into the wind.
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I'm just screaming into the wind.
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Guilt is relative.
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So is sin.
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It makes it easy to pretend.
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-----------------
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Screaming Into The Wind
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| John Nolan |
