What a way to crashtest your consciousness
you act like you’ve got all the time,
like that particular smile to fake doing fine
well go ahead then do what you want
I wont be your pillow, your buffer, your airbag no more.
Yet I want to so badly cause I know you’ll be sad later on
when the dawn brakes through your headache and you don’t remember the wrong you’ve caused
to yourself and to others and maybe a little because
I wasn’t there to offer you pause,
Hell I like drinking just as well, but I still know who
I am when I do and I always remember you too.
I wish you’d feel the same or at least try to behave but you always tell me you don’t want to be saved. Not even for me? Not even for happiness or settle for being content,
as soon as I think it, I feel your contempt.
You don’t want my love, you don’t want my heart,
you’re still too drunk and I’m torn apart.
So again I must leave and this time for real,
you’ll spit in my face and leave a bad taste,
your hardship smells like a rotten last meal
‘What’s the deal?’ You ask me as I pay for your cab but then shut the door. Drive! Mr taximan, Drive to the moon. I don’t want to see you back here too soon.
There’s a part of me lit and it’s ready to burn,
Let me take the heat. The one person I’d save is throwing up in your backseat.
I’m a sacrifice man it’s what I do best. I just keep kidding myself it’s an emotional test and later on
when I’ve grown older somehow, I will be happier then because I am miserable now.
I am such an idiot for believing myself. In the end there is only a face looking grimly across
the mirror is fading from the things we have lost