I believe the only reason I ever breathe deep
Is to appreciate the panic of suffocating
And revel in the helplessness of being deprived
Of that which I need to stay alive.
It's a lot like talking to you.
It reminds me of talking to you.
I believe the only reason I have toenails
Is to feel the pain as I rip them from the quick
Immediate sense of swelling, sweet pain exploding
Helps me focus and forget, pretend I'm not sick
It's a lot like being with you.
It reminds me of being with you.
It's you.
It's you.
And you don't have a clue.
You just keep on doing what you do.
Different day,
Nothing new,
Same you.
I believe the only reason I face the mirror's glare
Is to witness the cracks that mar my own illusion
The fractured self and the ghost of disillusion
Push me to confront and grapple with my own reflection
It's a lot like the empty promises you make.
It reminds me of promises you made.
It's you.
It's you.
And you don't have a clue.
You just keep on doing what you do.
Different day,
Nothing new,
Same you.
I believe the only reason I endure this silence
Is to savor the echoes of my own isolation
The aching void and the burden of reflection
Guide me to confront and dwell in this desolation
It's a lot like staring into your vacant eyes
I remember your vacancy.
It's you.
It's you.
And you don't have a clue.
You just keep on doing what you do.
Different day,
Nothing new,
Same you.
I believe the reason I dream is so I can do all the things I want to do to you. All the things I could do to end you. The reason I dream is to get release, relief from all the hell of knowing you.