Well do you want to talk about it? Do you think you’d understand, How things can get so fucked up with such good, such good intentions And if, if roofs turn to sky, held by the gravity of nothing An ironic and literal making of a bed. You can walk away, but there is a reason to stay. They make bad bad jokes, it’s okay not to laugh. And for every push foward, you get the same fucking push back. You had, you had nowhere to go so you, so you found some place. You had, you had nothing to say, you start lying. What the fuck were you thinking? I’m not sorry… I’d do it all again. All the lines between hate, love, and revenge It’s just dead, it’s dead, it’s dead Just dead feelings.