All of these lines I've written
I've written in blood
How could you understand
all these years
I've been piling them up
hoping you would catch on
I am a time bomb without you
dreading those final ticks
They are lyrics fed to me
by the last singing synapses
as I drink my coffee
as I drive to work
in the shower
laying awake at night
during every menial task
moments in between
moments that pass so quickly
you hardly notice they're gone
I am hopeless, I know
I painstakingly carve these words
in my tenderest flesh
They come out so strange
so raw, so wrong
I wonder if you could ever
understand
Like bubbles from the depths
do they mean anything at all?
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