07-05-2012, 06:37 AM
Very fresh raw write. If I could play guitar I would probably turn this into a song. Alas, I am a poet, not a musician.
edit v. 3
How to describe how I feel some days,
trapped in this serotonin fucked haze...
I guess it's true,
these thoughts of you,
leave me so confused,
and knowingly used.
When the milk curdles in your tea,
trying too hard to feel carefree,
smelling piss on the subway train,
being stuck for hours in the rain.
Like the bird shit on your coat,
and when phlegm sticks in your throat,
that important thing that you forgot,
or the moment when you're caught.
I want to cover my eyes,
pretend that I am wise,
nothing really makes sense,
real world is too intense.
Being poor with lots of debt,
shagging someone with regret,
it's running out of things to say,
the stink of your own tooth decay.
It's that infected paper cut,
or that bad feeling in your gut,
it's not knowing how to live,
and wanting more than they will give.
Life can be so good,
I suppose that it should,
most problems self create,
I try to think straight.
Weekends fucking with your head,
finding out your cat is dead,
seeing fat when you are thin,
feeling trapped in your own skin.
Losing even though you tried,
passing thoughts of suicide,
faking smiles when you feel shit,
the day you learn that this it.
----
edit v. 2
How to describe how I feel some days,
trapped in this serotonin fucked haze...
I guess it's true,
these thoughts of you,
I never understand,
still I try to withstand.
Like when milk curdles in your tea,
trying too hard to feel carefree,
smelling piss on the subway train,
getting stuck for hours in the rain.
It's the bird shit on your coat,
and the phlegm stuck in your throat,
that important thing that you forgot,
and the moment when you're caught.
My best memories fast become lost,
such long nights come at this cost...
I want to cover my eyes,
pretend that I am wise,
nothing really makes sense,
real world is intense.
Weekends fucking with your head,
finding out your cat is dead,
seeing fat when you are thin,
feeling shit in your own skin.
Losing even though you tried,
passing thoughts of suicide,
faking a smile when you feel shit,
the day you learn that this it.
Trying to figure out what love might mean,
when all emotions turn confused obscene...
Life can be so good,
I suppose that it should,
most problems self create,
born out of lies or hate.
Becoming stuck with lots of debt,
shagging someone with regret,
having to work on your birthday,
the stink of your own tooth decay.
It's that infected paper cut,
or that shit feeling in your gut,
like not knowing how to really live,
and wanting more then they will give.
I think most of us just want to be free,
such a shame that we can't seem to see,
because the cage is of nothing real,
made of our dissatisfied ideal.
-----------------
Original version
Sometimes it's true,
these thoughts of you,
never will I understand,
still I try to withstand.
How to describe how I feel some days,
trapped in this serotonin fucked haze...
Like when milk curdles in your tea,
trying too hard to feel carefree,
smelling piss on the subway train,
getting stuck for hours in the rain.
It's the bird shit on your coat,
and the flem stuck in your throat,
cleaning burnt bits off the pan,
or getting caught out by the man.
I want to shut my eyes,
pretend that I am wise,
hope my words make sense,
this doubt held in suspense.
Such moments can fast become lost,
I start to wonder what it might cost...
Weekends fucking with your head,
finding out your cat is dead,
seeing fat when you are thin,
feeling shit in your own skin.
Losing even though you tried,
passing thoughts of suicide,
faking a smile when you feel shit,
the day you learn that this it.
Life can be so good,
I suppose that it should,
most problems self create,
born out of lies or hate.
Trying to figure out what love might mean,
with all emotion so confused and obscene...
Becoming stuck with lots of debt,
shagging someone with regret,
going to work on your birthday,
the stink of your own tooth decay.
It's that infected paper cut,
or that shit feeling in your gut,
like not knowing how to really live,
and wanting more then they will give.
I think most of us just want to be free,
such a shame that we can't seem to see,
because the cage is of nothing real,
it's only our fear and poor ideal.
edit v. 3
How to describe how I feel some days,
trapped in this serotonin fucked haze...
I guess it's true,
these thoughts of you,
leave me so confused,
and knowingly used.
When the milk curdles in your tea,
trying too hard to feel carefree,
smelling piss on the subway train,
being stuck for hours in the rain.
Like the bird shit on your coat,
and when phlegm sticks in your throat,
that important thing that you forgot,
or the moment when you're caught.
I want to cover my eyes,
pretend that I am wise,
nothing really makes sense,
real world is too intense.
Being poor with lots of debt,
shagging someone with regret,
it's running out of things to say,
the stink of your own tooth decay.
It's that infected paper cut,
or that bad feeling in your gut,
it's not knowing how to live,
and wanting more than they will give.
Life can be so good,
I suppose that it should,
most problems self create,
I try to think straight.
Weekends fucking with your head,
finding out your cat is dead,
seeing fat when you are thin,
feeling trapped in your own skin.
Losing even though you tried,
passing thoughts of suicide,
faking smiles when you feel shit,
the day you learn that this it.
----
edit v. 2
How to describe how I feel some days,
trapped in this serotonin fucked haze...
I guess it's true,
these thoughts of you,
I never understand,
still I try to withstand.
Like when milk curdles in your tea,
trying too hard to feel carefree,
smelling piss on the subway train,
getting stuck for hours in the rain.
It's the bird shit on your coat,
and the phlegm stuck in your throat,
that important thing that you forgot,
and the moment when you're caught.
My best memories fast become lost,
such long nights come at this cost...
I want to cover my eyes,
pretend that I am wise,
nothing really makes sense,
real world is intense.
Weekends fucking with your head,
finding out your cat is dead,
seeing fat when you are thin,
feeling shit in your own skin.
Losing even though you tried,
passing thoughts of suicide,
faking a smile when you feel shit,
the day you learn that this it.
Trying to figure out what love might mean,
when all emotions turn confused obscene...
Life can be so good,
I suppose that it should,
most problems self create,
born out of lies or hate.
Becoming stuck with lots of debt,
shagging someone with regret,
having to work on your birthday,
the stink of your own tooth decay.
It's that infected paper cut,
or that shit feeling in your gut,
like not knowing how to really live,
and wanting more then they will give.
I think most of us just want to be free,
such a shame that we can't seem to see,
because the cage is of nothing real,
made of our dissatisfied ideal.
-----------------
Original version
Sometimes it's true,
these thoughts of you,
never will I understand,
still I try to withstand.
How to describe how I feel some days,
trapped in this serotonin fucked haze...
Like when milk curdles in your tea,
trying too hard to feel carefree,
smelling piss on the subway train,
getting stuck for hours in the rain.
It's the bird shit on your coat,
and the flem stuck in your throat,
cleaning burnt bits off the pan,
or getting caught out by the man.
I want to shut my eyes,
pretend that I am wise,
hope my words make sense,
this doubt held in suspense.
Such moments can fast become lost,
I start to wonder what it might cost...
Weekends fucking with your head,
finding out your cat is dead,
seeing fat when you are thin,
feeling shit in your own skin.
Losing even though you tried,
passing thoughts of suicide,
faking a smile when you feel shit,
the day you learn that this it.
Life can be so good,
I suppose that it should,
most problems self create,
born out of lies or hate.
Trying to figure out what love might mean,
with all emotion so confused and obscene...
Becoming stuck with lots of debt,
shagging someone with regret,
going to work on your birthday,
the stink of your own tooth decay.
It's that infected paper cut,
or that shit feeling in your gut,
like not knowing how to really live,
and wanting more then they will give.
I think most of us just want to be free,
such a shame that we can't seem to see,
because the cage is of nothing real,
it's only our fear and poor ideal.