Headsore
Red house paintersThat made me feel as if i may be growing
I have this urge to read and learn
Something new
But I hate books
And I hate reading
So what am I thinking
Often the story has just gotten old
And i can't grow with it
Anymore
I can't grow
Waiting for your arrivals
Hiding my life among
While I over hear his twisted intellect
Like vocal on his deathbed
She said
'you're 22 and life is the same for you
as when you left here'
I thought of the one
Who dyed his pride four years further than me
I'm going over the water now
And when I get across
I'm going to look back and think
Not tomorrow, not ever.
Head Sore
of course
Head Sore
of course
I had thoughts today
They made me feel as if i may be growing
I had this urge to go and love someone new
But I like her and I hate playing
So what am I saying?
I think our time has just got old
And I can't grow with her anymore
I can't grow waiting for you eyelids
Hiding from the light of morning
While I overhear his twisted intelect
Like vocal on his deathbed
She said
'youre 22, life isn't the same for you, as it is for me'
I thought of the one
who died his pride four years further than me
I'm going over the water now
And when I get across
I'm going to look back and think
Not tomorrow, not ever.
Head Sore
of course
Head Sore
of course