Taping up these holey boots, to keep from getting wet.
I wonder if these clouds present a brontosaurus bread
Wailing on a thing, and thinks that I haven't thought of yet.
Waiting out for something more than that.
Tongue tired, and over tied up, silencing these sounds
Hell-bent, obsessed with sounding clever and profound
Realising that the bottle's already halfway down.
And when its down, I guess it's down...
Well, at least I've tricked the ceiling
And myself into believing its the sky.
When the beach was my backyard,
Well then I'd laugh so goddamn hard until I cried.
Staring out the window, feeling dead
And watching wind blow up the sand.
When my eyes catch my reflection,
I realise I am not much of a man.
Purging all the parts and pieces that ain't worth a shit
Burning over, trying to get the smallest slot to fit
Something tells me that it's not the last I've heard of it
Making room for something less than this.
Sorting out the ones to burn and the ones I'd maybe fix
Thinking of the ones I lost, and add them to the list
Trying not to think to hard of the ones I might've missed
Coz when they're gone I guess they're gone.
Turn me sour from sweetness,
And I turn my strengths to weakness every night.
And it's easier to forgive and to forget than it is to face it and to fight.
So I guess you best be leaving
And I'll just go along believing best I can
It's when I get to drinking that I realise I am not much of a man