You've traveled the world but you haven't crossed my mind. actually, that last line was a lie. My mind is a highway and you're a commuter. back and forth it takes its toll. my heart a pot of old cracked pewter. The sole shooter in the gunfight. I brought a knife but you stole my sight and stuck the blade in the my spine so my organs could see light. an out of work labored breath then you left. i did my job you grabbed the broom and under the carpet i was swept. But that's not the point.
You were the final stick that poked, provoked this half ghost. You may have took my breath away but ive learned to fuckin choke. from the dust, comes the smoke...the fire will rise and put its hands on your throat. My supposed demise has been exaggerated since the first time my heart broke. I keep coming back like a fucking cockroach. but now im gonna fight until i'm dead and i've lost hope.
You are the straw, the rope, the dead end road. get the fuck out of my head and fuck that horse that you rode.
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ain't it the truth.
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