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i left the tall, white hospital without waving goodbye it was the one that i was born in and it is where i will die and my eyes went blind before they even saw the floor and my father's closing yet another open back door i left my dying mother in a waiting room now i'm deploying my men and i'm raising a glass for pedaling tricycles (through) scattering tylenol elevated eye lids (while) burying little kids and now you're lying on the living room floor with one hand on your chest and another against the door and if the sound of traffic keeps you safe at night what is it doing now? your parents aren't always right i thought a lot last night under a spit-stained comforter about lying and deciding which road deserves to be died on and i came to the decision that i just have to stop listening and i want my ashes on a freeway between san fransisco and los angeles i left the cafeteria with a noisy sigh Letras de cancionesone that closes my eyes and makes room for my all my lies: "i never thought i'd see so you happy and your smile makes me a little bit angry" it's been a long time since the ceiling at the top of my mind fell through you're the last thing i could say to the officious funeral survey they still tell me how to behave but it's sunday and my window won't display concrete evidence that everything is and always will be okay and i might have to go to sleep without brushing my teeth without a mattress under me without pity or humility i know what i want in my life and i know that it's not written on pages of textbooks or printed on the sides of city buses or left at my door every single morning i've heard the squeaking of shopping carts late at night below my window where the concrete never seems to die and i'll lie and i'll lie and i will lie just to bother you, old faithful de ja vous and i'll spit up your sympathy into some kitchen sink and i'll bury myself and i'll breath what i think i won't believe you if you stand with your finger pointed at the sky and i won't miss you, or ever think of you for the rest of my life i was sweating with creatures underneath my skin i was spitting them out just to breathe them back in and they dont bother me so much anymore yeah i'm used to it i don't need help from the shelves of a convienient store you know there's something to be said to all the living and the dead whether you're sleeping on couches on the side of the street or maybe rotting away un der neath but everything that's insane will become mundane now i'm lying dead under a tree with a letter at my feet and the sun sinking into me though i didn't mind the heat now there aren't any colors here no, there aren't any colors here From Letras Mania