Furnace
Ex-Bluelighter
in my head
Too many songs,
Not enough talking.
The things that I want to write over and
over are those things that plauge me like an
illness of the mind and heart.
So I'll sit here typing and hurting.
Backspacing and smiling.
Editing and frustrated.
There's silence from your end, and I seem to
be doing all the talking.
Perhaps I should shut off the music that tries to tell me what you seem to be afraid to say.
Then, will I be left hanging, again?
Wondering?
Perhaps it's time we should just say goodbye for a while.
But the question is, is the feeling mutual?
Too many songs,
Not enough listening.
Too many songs,
Not enough talking.
The things that I want to write over and
over are those things that plauge me like an
illness of the mind and heart.
So I'll sit here typing and hurting.
Backspacing and smiling.
Editing and frustrated.
There's silence from your end, and I seem to
be doing all the talking.
Perhaps I should shut off the music that tries to tell me what you seem to be afraid to say.
Then, will I be left hanging, again?
Wondering?
Perhaps it's time we should just say goodbye for a while.
But the question is, is the feeling mutual?
Too many songs,
Not enough listening.
