Remnants of the Past

a moment's time
is all you ever need
to choose fate
it's not a lie but a stronger truth
you know it's concise
don't give me that look of disgust
when you hold all of my distrust

another word from you
and i don't know what i'll do
your voice like screaming children
i worry where your body has been
it hasn't been with me
if you were me you would see

because if you are truthful i don't believe
that you are who i wear on my sleave
i'm so tired
the blinding light can't even guide me
where am i?
the more dead the better

like a tree
dried and cracking
you think i'm laughing
i'm a wreck

and you're there to see
but there's not much underneath
you with me there was
and this wasn't just the drugs
you joke and i choke
because being here beside you

is like beating children in public
like breaking banks with toothpicks
but when the concrete is fresh
and i can step and not a sound

you'll hound
and somewhere somehow
i'll be found

so spend another worthless moment
trying to tell me what you need
but i still bleed
i'm a person not a machine
so give me fifty seven more tries
and every time i use one
part of me dies

because being with you now
is like slaughtering a cow

artistic and slow
but there's nothing much to show
but a fresh slice of flesh
that we're eating like the rest

it's nothing more than
something that was there before we began
it's nothing
it's nothing more than
something that was there before we began

and now i am trying
to keep myself from dying

because death is so illusive
it's somewhat intrusive
on how we can vaguely be
beneath the silent trees

when summer has hit us hard
and there's nothing in the yard

but vacant memories
clouded by bad judgement

and if i could destroy what i had lost
i would feel quite above it

so give me another mix
there's nothing that can fix the nicks
and cuts along my legs
from working hard all day

but you don't understand the truth
even when it's in front of you
and now it's so plain to see
that's why you can't be with me

pretend you're seventeen
like a movie star magazine

your eyes lie and so do your thighs
about who you want to be with
when you die

another night alone
i'm turning off my phone
in fear that you would call
and wake me from my steady fall
of self decline and waste
there is no need to haste

stumbling towards the door
i always knew you were a whore
sorry it's been fun now that you're gone
and there's no one that knows what i'm on

but maybe you could figure it out
if you took the time to hear my shouts

the warm blood feels fresh on my cold skin
i'd laugh in her face
the grass is always greener bitch

being alone gives a sense of
tranquility i haven't felt in
what feels like a lifetime

could this be a way for me to run from
the most painful personal experience
so pure it intimidates me