With a light of this match i could
burn this place to the ground
then fire engines'd scream down
crowded streets onto the scene
and then i'd make it rain
numb myself to never say your name
that i've uttered in anger
said with confusion
laughed over nervously
said without sympathy
i'm not shedding tears for you
all those lonely nights that i've
said “feels like i might as well be dead”
no more smiles, revolving like turnstiles
no more deliberation, analytical creations
i'm incapable, a predepressionist
this is delivered with courage
muddled in tension
lashed out in honesty
someone come and save me
i'm dying to tell you
this kills it forever
it was already dead
and i'm just fine
i haven't called you but i haven't had the time
thoughts are stale
i've been revolving like turnstiles