: Am I frightened of this town? Just a little. I'm a frightened of all the things that it makes me do. I've been invited to a part with demons and dickheads
: Why bother? I feel you coming from a million miles away. You're putting on your spin. Like you're entitled to whatever I create. I'll step aside. You
: I'm on a quest for normalcy, balance, respect and mystery. Rechargeable with cells and chips and such. Flooded with information. Refresh rate the face
: I'm the escapist, scrutinized to hell and I'm trapped under water. The Caustics; they embrace me. I'm bleeding through my wrists as you stare in fascination
: Is today fact or fiction? You've told me the plot and expect me to still play the role. You talk round in circles, despite the shape and reputation
: I've tasted what it's like. I don't dig it. I could heal the lesser bites, so they won't scar, but why bother. Like to feel the bumps and bruises,
've lost communication between rational and doubt. Washed out the wave until it led me to the drought. Now I'm pissed and angry, just staring at the floor. I need a little more
see - while I was on the run - what I've done and who I've done it with. I won't forget. It's like Philadelphia, 1999; skipped a few more classes to tow
: I don't feel more dead buried deeper, or more joyful when I'm touching the sky. I'm just "Stuck in the middle". and I pierce the earth to be an individual
: I got a semi hollow body on my chest. My back hurts. My throat is feeling stressed. I swear by the end of the night, I'll be coughing up the morning
: It happens to me from time to time. I realize I've waited too long. I pretend to turn the blind eye. Before I know it. I've lost sight of it all, even
: Feral children of the night. You're hungry. I get it. It's all been fashioned, so get in line; or draw one. It don't matter. You got another itch to
lot in a shell-shocked shelled kind of life. Thanks to modern medicine, now I'm doing alright. I've got this guitar and a pocket full of friends. It's worth more
: How can I make this a metaphor for how you spit on this, For how you make me feel. Your 'sorry' gives as much as 'sorry' gets. The riff is in. The
: I'm locking all the doors. I'm busting up the mirrors. Reflection is a dirty thing. It seems that's all too obvious. I didn't dim the lights enough
: If my head could start the argument. You know it would. Never good at accepting compliments. That all compliments of me. Let's go where it might
lemons. There's far more than I can use. They're tumbling out of my closet. Rolling from under my bed. When I'm running through ladders. Just saw a black
Would you exist without all the fists the music clenched for you. You're dressed up like a full-bodied anarchist. Right down to your views. It's more
