Face it.
|
I'm catching all your drifts.
|
They're blowing eastward, through my door and out my window.
|
Originate in mouth.
|
In innuendos.
|
Every word is meant to hurt.
|
Meant to feel like war.
|
I've had enough.
|
All's fair only when the weather is.
|
The air is right for shooting down my best intentions,
|
but all the good it's done.
|
We'll never mention.
|
Just like the worst. Just like the worst.
|
Hot tounges and poor little lungs are burnt to a crisp from fire that we spit.
|
No wins with sharp bloody pins that we've hired and fired at will.
|
They're sticking in my skin.
|
I've had enough.
|
Allies are worthless in this shit-faced fucking
|
that I fear has grown to pity me for the damage done
|
and you for the healing.
|
When neither side has meant to hurt.
|
Now when I get lost.
|
I follow the blood trail home to my disgust
|
and think of all the wrong things I could be doing...
|
and all the good times I could ruin.
|
"Hey, I wouldn't worry about it man.
|
Do what you can try not to hide."
|
"Hey, I wouldn't worry about it man.
|
Do what you can to feel alive."
|
|
-----------------
|
Ice Cream With The Enemy
|
| None More Black |
