I seclude myself with silence Writing is often easier for me Although it's still difficult for me at times to share I can't tell you The number of letters unsent and poems destroyed But I am giving you this Even with the possibility of regret I am sorry that I am not vocal with things I just feel like everything that comes out of my mouth Is wrong There is something else I loved you There is something else I loved you f**ing you There is something else I want you to hear Tied up, f**ing you Tied up, f**ing you