Broken mind, trying to
be fine
Broken lies...(but at
least I'm now on time!)
Broken lines, once the
day is done.
Broken home, with
nowhere left to go.
Its true;
I fell across the room
like you wanted me to
I say now,
indubitably, inevitably, never quite the same.
Its the same as loving
you, same as being tried, remaining as true
as that heartfelt
squeezebox that pumps so ever on.
The promises, and the
attempts:
They matter, have to
matter dammit, and if you ever want your commitment,
I'd recommend doing so
now.
Cuz it seems like your
waiting for us, this day, to die I'm sure, I'm certain
Only ask for a simple
hello, then the pausure.
Oh the endless
longing.
The same as the turned
pitches, in a tune.
Ah fuck, but to be
your ghost then, just wandering round.
Tired, always so tired
now.
Waiting for that one
last sickness,
To take us to the
outskirts of town.
Contrived? Surely, no,
Just a singsong of the
mind, a
Slipshot sliding of
the times
It is me still trying
to show I care.
Me trying to keep it
all together.
Me being anyone, with
anything.
Anywhere then here.
Suddenly singing punk
songs,
and hating all the
rhythms.
Not the chords, the
lyrics, the sweat, or genuine hellos, no
Just waiting on the
time,
For this madness, or
else the world
to end.
