Which came first, the music or the misery?
I went to sleep a poet and woke up a fraud. A cliché but I do it best.
I’ve come to terms with behind a footnotes in someone else happiness. I’ve got troubled thoughts and the self esteem to match, Mr Sandman shines his beam as he enters the room, bouncing back and forth on waves, head like a steal trap. I swore I would never end up like that but behind my back I already have, ‘oh darling I know what your going though.’ Piss off. God I try to tell you, and I get ignored, can’t you see me screaming at you for help? You want to know why I kicked out at the world, regardless of the fact that it always kicks back a lot harder? Because no one is listening. Long live the carcrash hearts.
The sad thing is it isn’t my friends dragging me though this, it’s a little blue disk spinning in my bedroom. “Crowds are won and lost and won again but our hearts beat for the diehards.” The songs own the beating of my heart. I’ll keep believing if you keep singing that lie.
The golden rule is always the cruellest. Sometimes I wonder if its worth it, or are the lives we live just golden plated? The lights of this city are too heavy, when I catch my reflection all I see if the people who don’t have time, don’t listen. Cliché I know but the sewage of youth drowned the spark of my teens. A stitch away from making it and a scar away from falling apart, pray you don’t grow up to be. Show me a starry-eyed kid, I wont let him get his hopes up, save him from him self a picture and a note saying; ‘don’t end up like me, it’s only for your own good.’ The stories getting old home wreckers with hearts of gold. It’s been said so many times I don’t think it matters, picking apart and falling apart to songs about hearts. It hurts but I think it was meant to be.
Haven’t you heard the word on the street? I lost it called it quits get in to the sun out from behind the gossip.
XO
