the truth could never be a special image that we conjured
its just another thought while we're living in this monster
and giving into progress, like we (like we) had it all along..
the passion in my song wouldn't grow if I didn't know you...
as simple as the concept of love is to those that are loveless,
to those that would hold on to nothing but grudges...
passion will slip through your hands like sand, in the bucket at the beach
that bucket's at your feet...
you're filling it with pride, (a little something you could keep close)
each stroke seems to wanna wash away the ego...
each stroke seems to wanna wash away the past
so I tossed it in the back,
took the fucking first right and lost it on the track,
but I'm not one to sling mud, (I tossed it on your back)..
it's hard to look pretty with a handful of dirt, right?
you should come and see what my shirt's like..
and I would say I'm sorry but I know I wouldn't mean it
and I really don't hate you, I only hate the feeling...
and I would say I'm sorry but I know I wouldn't mean it
and I really don't hate you, I only hate the feeling...
I started sleeping through the day so I wouldn't have to think of you
and reaching for the gray in my dreams..
you told me that I'm here.. It told me that I'm real..
but everything around me isn't looking like I feel,
if I'm looking like I feel then I guess I'd be afraid too
and way too afraid to admit it...
sitting in the middle of a storm with the door sewn shut
and I wonder how we call this admission...
gripping to a little bit of warmth in this torn old rug
and I wonder how we fall to position...
I'm living... (I guess that I should really give it up)
give it up to the one that had really given up
and I would say I'm sorry but I know I wouldn't mean it
and I really don't hate you, I only hate the feeling...
and I would say I'm sorry but I know I wouldn't mean it
and I really don't hate you, I only hate the feeling...
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