I'm just a teacher sending all of my fears in baby boy lasting impressions but my conscience is clear i live accordingly to rally my poison and destroy what's the difference if we're falling to pieces?
i'd bet the door is talking telling the walls of what is said passing the feeling that we're all beyond repair spare me opinions you can bet on my words that i cloil back rarely or fashion the truth
i just can't get enough so tell me are we something at all i think i've had enough to know we've never been and never will be
can we get it straight? get the to file down the edge away, or will it tear us apart? at the end bet your breath that they've taken the air
they'll fade you til they get enough so often danger they can cut you to the bone i feel you but they won't stop until you're ragged and empty and tired and old
it's like a heart attack they gather round you hugging the floor creating a hole pointing fingers while you're gasping