For you
redmosquito10
Posts: 568
Sometimes I wonder whether I’m overdramatic
or whether I care enough about anything.
Events unfold in unpredictable patterns,
but ever since I noticed the patterns everything’s been rather predictable.
I’ve made the same mistake more times than I can count,
but it’s intentional, and I have no doubt that I’ll make it again.
Sometimes the slim potential for greatness outweighs the overwhelming odds of pain and failure.
So that’s why I keep coming back to you.
Sitting in my house, blinds on windows stop me from seeing things from an outsider’s perspective.
And being outside is about the only time I’m happy.
As I lie in my bed, all I can think about is how similar this lying alone is to a coffin.
Only problem is I’ve always wanted to be cremated
But I always imagined that moment would come when I had never felt more alive.
But to be honest pain is a part of living, so in that sense I’m living it up,
Or should I say down.
The blues don’t seem to speak to me, because they’re a way of dealing with pain,
and that’s exactly what I seem unable to do.
The television holds visions of happy endings, glorious times, and true love
All I’m asking for is all of the above.
Is that too much to ask?
It seems that for the moment, it is, so I turn to other distractions.
Books have never failed me, and in a way they still don’t.
But my attention, and feelings, and love are somewhere else.
I’ve still got wanderlust, but I only want to wander with you.
I’ve still got great ambitions, but they seem fragile without you
I’ve still got great friends, but they’re just a way to take my mind off of you
I’ve still got these feelings
And I can’t believe God, or fate, or nature would waste something this strong,
So I’ll hold out hope, and wait a bit longer
For you
or whether I care enough about anything.
Events unfold in unpredictable patterns,
but ever since I noticed the patterns everything’s been rather predictable.
I’ve made the same mistake more times than I can count,
but it’s intentional, and I have no doubt that I’ll make it again.
Sometimes the slim potential for greatness outweighs the overwhelming odds of pain and failure.
So that’s why I keep coming back to you.
Sitting in my house, blinds on windows stop me from seeing things from an outsider’s perspective.
And being outside is about the only time I’m happy.
As I lie in my bed, all I can think about is how similar this lying alone is to a coffin.
Only problem is I’ve always wanted to be cremated
But I always imagined that moment would come when I had never felt more alive.
But to be honest pain is a part of living, so in that sense I’m living it up,
Or should I say down.
The blues don’t seem to speak to me, because they’re a way of dealing with pain,
and that’s exactly what I seem unable to do.
The television holds visions of happy endings, glorious times, and true love
All I’m asking for is all of the above.
Is that too much to ask?
It seems that for the moment, it is, so I turn to other distractions.
Books have never failed me, and in a way they still don’t.
But my attention, and feelings, and love are somewhere else.
I’ve still got wanderlust, but I only want to wander with you.
I’ve still got great ambitions, but they seem fragile without you
I’ve still got great friends, but they’re just a way to take my mind off of you
I’ve still got these feelings
And I can’t believe God, or fate, or nature would waste something this strong,
So I’ll hold out hope, and wait a bit longer
For you
"Ah, life is a gate, a way, a path to Paradise anyway, why not live for fun and joy and love or some sort of girl by a fireside, why not go to your desire and LAUGH..."
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