Forget my face, and forget all these words I speak.
At the end of the road I've found myself,
broken down and put-put-putting to the next rest stop but...
I've lost my wheels,
and my axil is bent,
my frame is cracked,
and these miles are spent.
slowing down in the midst of these tracks,
building myself on the dangerous, and I'll relax,
because I know one of these days,
while shortly numbered,
I'll be disposed of
waste baskets piled too high.
I'm living in this shadow box,
like a puppet tied to strings,
my head is laying low, faced opposite the crowd so maybe I won't really be seen.
Maybe I won't be recognized,
because if I'm recognized
Beauty turns to Beast and hide, I'm ashamed,
living with a life that isn't mine to claim.
I'm a short circuit riding on high hopes.
that these wires, bent and frayed, will reattach to the spokes and
send electric currents to get me back on my feet I'm a never ending cycle pushed back on repeat.
I never get my story straight, I change all my words, nothing is related
I'm like the bees and the birds,
I may have the wings, but I'm lacking the heart,
there's a whole dug inside me like dirt in the dark.
I've fallen into a pit and I can't get out,
my arms have failed me, broken,
and despite how loud I shout I will
scream until these lungs turn dark black and blue,
but as loud as I scream the words will never reach you.
Because you is me and me is you,
I am the only thing that refuses to
the beauty that is right in front of me but the
things that I refuse are decaying me,
and betraying me.
yeah a mess
but there's nothing wrong,
I'm a hypochondriac
so lost for words,
I'm sick with everything,
but what is it worth?
I'm fooling only myself,
and I'm sick of this pain.
But instead I'll just cry,
and whine, and complain.