Into meaningless conversation,
As if we were chatting about,
The sun or the fucking weather.
You talk to me like I am insane,
Needing seclusion like a patient,
Who'll off myself if I get out,
Because things won't be better.
You talk about happiness as if,
It can be bought from a vendor,
Peddling used shit on the street,
That will make me a great deal.
Movie-like endings do not exist,
Love notes are 'Return To Sender',
My life is about accepting defeat,
And nothing else is close to real.
Everything I need I should find,
In myself if I'm self-sufficient,
But no one really is, and no one,
Knows how to define happiness.
I know that I'm wasting my time,
Since I'm basically non-existant,
In the biggest picture, the sum,
Of the miserable and worthless.
My strengths are my weaknesses,
And you know how to control it,
Just like a fucking loaded pistol,
Needing any excuse to shoot.
Which isn't any good for me if,
Lack of strength is my weakness,
All the pressure makes me fold,
And I want to die far from you.
I won't be treated like a child,
Forced to believe all that I need,
To find happiness and solace,
Is everything deep inside of me.
I've dug for a long, long while,
And I've always came up empty.
Working hard is no condolence,
For everything I will never be.
Copyright 2006
-John Gehrig