I don't know where this is going... I just know I'm gone...
And you stand there with your hands full of nothing and watch me as I go.
I guess your body is too full of importance to set that void down for a moment... your life's too full of empty words to think to follow me home.
And there you are with nothing... and no one
And here I am... with distance and blatant scars and gaping wounds
And there is no one there to fill you... and no one here to clean my wounds
So you sit there confused as I sit here infected... and this is really one big dead end(!)
The end of the empire of you and me.
The end of comfort and that chance of meaning something to someone.
((Meaning something vs. meaning nothing... nothing will prevail!))
And I can drink until I bleed... and yes, you will still water me
You like to watch me wilt... or maybe you just care too little to even see the pedals falling
You hand me pockets full of razors... and you haven't a single clue because you care not check them before you hand them over
And you cry. And I laugh. And you laugh. And I cry.
This cycle is so insane... like a metal record skipping... tormented screams are not lining up or even remotely coming together.
So you edit in the other room... and I sit and slam these keys with very little grace.
And I wonder why you came here. And I wonder why I hold you... after I make you cry.
And I wonder why I am still here. And I wonder why you hold me... after you make me cry.
Tragedy makes for an interesting ending for any old 'typical' love-lost story. And this tragedy is mine.