Breathe--for me, my lungs are full
of loneliness.
Lets drive, down the hill.
Where we used to picnic
Where we used to trade words of passion.

Forget this!
What a beautiful lie;
but it pains my soul to speak of it.
What an immaculate lie;
but inside it whispers complex tricks.

Trade me! I only wish to be cleansed!
I've realized it's impossible, to help you from such distance.
Just let go!
Live the stress free life--you deserve;
better than my fly-by-night life.
These words are not my request,
but I'll give you my permission if you want it.
You don't have to pretend, to hold on.

Forget this!
What a beautiful lie;
but it pains my soul to think of it.
What an immaculate lie;
but inside it's screaming death is my next fix.

Help me! I need to hide my addictions,
I know I've been eaten alive at the core,
but my innocence strives;
to attempt to survive.
What a war my incapacity has waged,
night and day, I spend--
habitually moving forth.
You're the only thing to drive me on,
for I have no inner force.

Forget it. . .
What a painstaking lie;
it's still agonizing trying to fight it.
What an elaborate lie;
everything nostalgic has died,
I don't even withhold the decency to hide.