It's not that the truth hurts because I can't really feel it right now but i guess that's the point.
Like drinking to stay sober
And smoking to be low
And hyper.
I can't say it much better
Than that boy blaring in my ears
And you won't exactly hear him
Until after 4 shots
And 3 beers.
When it's not about money, or fame,
And you've run out of drugs to blame,
There's no white on the dashboard,
Or green in the back seat.
Just a sour taste of happiness,
Spilling from our sour mouths
Between our knees.
I wonder if you're spelling your name in the sand,
As I am,
Hoping someone there will remember you,
Thinking of the words you are writing,
As more than just words to be heard,
But to be felt.
I'm going to assume that
Because I haven't seen you yet.
And you haven't leapt off half a block of wood
To murder some screaming fans.
As I am.
You shouldn't have did what I asked.
But I won't forget you.
Atleast for a little while.
Because when my name is somewhere
Lost in the sand
I just wanted to leave something
That just maybe you would see
When I'm giggling
And tripping
And I'm hard to understand
Death just doesn't quite scare me.
