and i could write the sweetest song, but its time to go home

said i wanted honesty, but i lied.

maybe i just wasnt enough
as i had originally assumed
its so much more beautiful
than when i make myself the fool

and i guess i damned myself
fucking myself into a wall
into making myself
feel like nothing at all

and it got to a point
where everyone was so dead they hated themselves
and they just wanted to go back to sleep
convincing themselves another week and they wont feel so weak

so we sat around a table
passing cigarette after cigarette
trying to convince ourselves that last night was alright
that we didnt forget ourselves
and the memories we have can be put on the shelf

but i hate what i made myself believe
that i could be something
anything at all, that is lovely

and you said you wanted to spend the day away
that everything is really alright
you just need a couple of hours to feel okay

and you tell me its too late
that you found your way to the bank
and found the bottle
so i had to wait

and she said she fucked up
she didnt feel angry
but felt the rage
when she threw the cup to feel okay

and we all laughed
but knew what it meant
the words shed left in my journal
to tell me shes spent

and everything i remember
shot my inhibitions to hell
when you had to ask someone to tell me its over
that it didnt mean anything once you got to know her

did i scare you?
i know i spilled too much
that i misplaced my heart
once i felt your touch

and i want your honesty
so i can know how to feel
i hate wondering who i am
and if my recollections are real