i listen to your words,
filling in the spaces in between
i know your thoughts
and can see exactly what you mean.
so it makes me wonder why
you say the things you do
and act like that?
is it just to make me feel as bad as you?
sometimes i think you like to make me angry
it's almost like you want me to yell.
maybe you can only feel normal
when going through hell.
i guess you wanna take me there as well.
i wish you could understand
that with all the things i haven't done,
it doesn't make me a bad man.
there's just so much here that i don't understand
you see, i'm splintered inside
rubbed raw from everything i've tried to hide.
rotting and hollow
from all the poisons i've had to swallow.
so i send up smoke signals
waiting for your reply.
but the answer never comes,
they just fade into an angry sky.
i wish i could remember what i'm doing this for.
there used to be a purpose,
but i'm not sure anymore.
my nerves are shattered
and my back is bent.
i'm tired and sorry,
and completely spent.
it seems all i do now
is try to make the rent.
once i had dreams,
i'm just not sure where they went.
if you see them,
will you send them back to me?
i sure could use the help,
even if it's only an outdated memory.
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