Burdensome, Empty and Heartless
Feelings are all but drained.
Empty night skies and empty bottles.
There are few desires left in life, the ones I can't have.
I've stolen the ripped peices of my life, back from those who have taken it, and burned the peices that I don't use anymore.
Compassion, remorse, emotion, fear and sympathy; these are the few things I don't care for anymore.
We've found the solace in our hate.
I took the burning coals out of my eyes, but you threw them back in.
We're back at the same point in time.
Honestly, I broke my heart before you ever touched it.
You've spread the disease of hope in my mind and I resent it.
I hate that we breath the same air now.
I'd quit if I knew how.
I'm trying to rebuild those bridges I burnt, getting to you, so I can leave.
You were raised with spite, I was raised with spit.
We could converge on that level, now we are prying against the bond.
I've felt bad since bruising your heart with my ego.
Lets bury our love in salt and lime.
Our disgusting lust, our insepid feelings; find a hole in the earth for all of the memories, and bury it.
All our love was to you was a calender date. Time.
We had to put so much of an emphasis on a concept that involved seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years. What does it matter?
Why couldn't we just forget about the schedules; the life around the clock?
Lets pretend we don't exist.
(This doesn't pretain to anyone on here. Just need to clear my conscience)
Feelings are all but drained.
Empty night skies and empty bottles.
There are few desires left in life, the ones I can't have.
I've stolen the ripped peices of my life, back from those who have taken it, and burned the peices that I don't use anymore.
Compassion, remorse, emotion, fear and sympathy; these are the few things I don't care for anymore.
We've found the solace in our hate.
I took the burning coals out of my eyes, but you threw them back in.
We're back at the same point in time.
Honestly, I broke my heart before you ever touched it.
You've spread the disease of hope in my mind and I resent it.
I hate that we breath the same air now.
I'd quit if I knew how.
I'm trying to rebuild those bridges I burnt, getting to you, so I can leave.
You were raised with spite, I was raised with spit.
We could converge on that level, now we are prying against the bond.
I've felt bad since bruising your heart with my ego.
Lets bury our love in salt and lime.
Our disgusting lust, our insepid feelings; find a hole in the earth for all of the memories, and bury it.
All our love was to you was a calender date. Time.
We had to put so much of an emphasis on a concept that involved seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years. What does it matter?
Why couldn't we just forget about the schedules; the life around the clock?
Lets pretend we don't exist.
(This doesn't pretain to anyone on here. Just need to clear my conscience)
starla:
it wasn't morning, but the presence of bacon and eggs within the burrito, justifies the "breakfast" moniker