i can't breathe when you talk so softly on the telephone

it makes me feel cold and alone with the awful same

repeating refrain that for fifteen years has been in my


i'm sorry, i forget that you're broken,

until you break down, again

and the sky was aflame

with pink clouds

reflected in the mud on the ground

and the blood covered up the screaming sound

is that being too obvious?

it's hard to be subtle when it's as thick as this

and i'm sick of all this bullshit

and everyone, except you

and maybe another few who aren't fake

and i know i wrote before i didn't

but i still do feel like a lake

that's calm and smooth

and has nothing to say

that's why i say it over and over again

sometime i want to just pick up the drano bottle

tell you "i love you"

then tell you "this is the end"

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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