And it begins
I toss and turn
But things could be much worse
Hurry up and wait
This convoluted state, induced by you
And the loaded things we say
Whoaaa, whoaaaa, whoaaaaaaaaaaa (x2)
You're gonna miss, gonna miss, gonna miss me someday (x2)
The siren sings to pull you in
As things are wearing thin
The time it takes
Before you break
Let me introduce myself
My name is fate
Whoaaa, whoaaaawhoaaaaaaaaaaa (x2)
You're gonna miss, gonna miss, gonna miss me someday (x2)
You're gotta take your time with things like these
All that you want is someone to ask for apologies
For things that don't exist
They just don't make sense
So much pretense
April 5th
I arise with chapped lips
And the babbling of nonsense over the TV's dull hiss
The events of April 4th align just a little more
than the infatuated roar of the kids across the street
though they speak not to me
they go deeper than my worry
with a friend of a friend who at a bar last night told me that they loved me
but it must've been the Bacardi
that had her hanging off me, and saying things she'd do to me
Why do these still haunt me?!?!