I feel worried
 Somewhat sick
 Have imagined you dead to help
 Me cope with this odd feeling
 Perhaps of monumental heartbreak
 But you took it back
 And so I feel worried again
 That you don’t wish to see me
 And perhaps I feel sick
 As I begin to rub the breathed up glass
 And I feel sick as I see you
 Through and through and that through all this pain and distance (which is not even that far)
 And desire and missing you
 You have want to move on.
 I don’t. I read you only fall in love 3 times
 In your whole wide life
 Why should we rubble such as ours?
 Was it truly even rotten? No.

 

Wrong end of the nigh for Wetherspoons
 But still I walk like I’ve got something to prove
 Trying to price my swagger
 Increasing my toughness with my wagger
 To avoid attention or more lightly put
 Murder by a preying person (we know just who)
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Sent from my iPhone