I came in from the storm and the television's on. Celebrities enact fictionalized tales. How could my boring life compete?
I thought about the drugs, how I thought they fixed my brain until I was in the dark rattling containers, scribbling garbage to myself:
I need constant attention of else I'm gonna get distracted but even if you tell me something I can't guarantee I'm listening. I hear "BA BA BA BA BA"
I've never been in love but I saw Brian Wilson once. I was drunk and screamed too loud over the falsetto in "You Still Believe in Me." And I thought about the way his catastrophes could make everything okay Until I watched the fire fade and former dayglo embers turned to ashy greys and blacks. One exhausted triple encore, unplugged bass around his neck. I know fires don't last forever, but I need to find a match because these days, fuck, I'm tired.
I used to be an awesome listener. But now I just drift and out or get pulled away by beats and measures like I don' t have a choice but failure and running from a brighter future.
It's never take me back 'cause I'm not sorry For all the times I ran away or wasted my vacation days. It's something I can't bring myself to say.