Wednesday 11 March 2009

I am my mother only child. And tbh we dont get on, well i just dont like her.

you could be my broken bow with no arrow, you could pretend your my friend and clam you'll keep me on the stright and narrow, you could be the wise up and i could be a young pup but tonight your not anywere near what i need and i need so bad it seems.
you could be my rusty knife and fork and we could play kill each other in the dark, i could pretend for a minute i ddint feel paranoid and that i could some how fill this empty void, tho in my heart i know there is no point.

you could be the thrust you could be the end, you could be the thing which helps me, you could be the thing which pushes me over the edge, and i dont wish to offend but it seems i never known friends and now i need forgiven just for liven this isnt liven this isnt life.

you could be my angry wife and i could fuck you over till you leave me then its over and i could pretend i'll change but in our hearts we know its always the same, its a game of blame, blame and blame. so who is to blame? tonight my dear im all cryed out so its your turn i think to cry these tears, i cant undo these years, but im tryin hard, so tired. its a bug going round, im feelin down.

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