I don’t know what you remember about all of this, but I do.
I remember all of it.
Everything, and sometimes nothing.
Nothing
And what is nothing? It’s everything, right?
What does that make us?
Such a beautiful collection of nothings made you everything to me.
But why?
And why did we settle?
What do we do now? I can’t see anything here.
Careful what you wish for:
Old ghosts on which to lay the blame
And I don’t think he knows my name
Easier than rope, but no…
What makes you think I choose this joke?
Barely a resistor:
A fear on which to set a flame
And I don’t think he knows my name
…Not yet…
I can’t do this anymore
Give me a restrictor:
A silhouette of guilt and shame
And I don’t think she feels the same
And know he doesn’t know my name
Careful what you wish for
‘Cuz I don’t know we know our place
If tide has no pull then war will assume
That you and I are nothing new
And settle for the poison moon
That I can’t see from on my knees
Breakpoint. Breakpoint. Please.
