You want to know why I can't sleep?
Why my insomnia's not a medical trauma
It's the lies that I hear, that I'm forced to keep
Because they're told so I'm not hurt, no drama
But it's bullshit, you hear me, fucking bullshit
Don't lie, don't ever fucking lie
Do you want to know it
The reason why?
You want to know why I've got red raw wrists
Why I've bled till I'm dizzy and passing out
All because my friends just have to insist
On lying to my face, so I never know about
The bullshit they do, behind my back
And it's the reason
The reason
No other, really
That I'm like this right now.
Fuck you all, you'll never read this anyway.
Studio B
- Mark
- When you need to wake up in the morning, and set the right mood for the day, when you need to escape from the overwhelming everything of life. What do you turn to? How do you describe your core without speaking aloud, without having to talk to someone about it? This is how. Music. Lyrics. Poetry. Do you feel it? Do you? It's here, it's everywhere, locked within you, within the most tone deaf of us. It's begging to be released, become unleashed in a tearing chord, a crying melody, soulful harmony, dying lyric. You feel it yet? It's concealed here, within every word that I write. This is my release. I want you to see it, to feel it with me. This pure expression of every tangible and imaginable emotion known and unknown to man. To me. Welcome to The Window.