This is me, Trying to type it out, Letting my key burns.
Like I did the other day, My piano now makes a nice coffee table.
The fire inside of me, It dims by the day, The want to do something new,
The want to feel this new dream, The want to reach out,
Fluctuating and erupting, Giving me kicks. Flashes of " Everythings gonna be alright. " and " Die another day ".
Flashes and fumes that just blind me, bind me.
This is me after wishing for the sun to come out tomorrow,
From the other side, with a new design.
This is me wishing for the impossible, On the countless shooting stars,
On the countless meteor showers, If that count I watched last night.
My fingers have been crossed for so long, They're numb and short of blood.
Sorry about this,
Sorry about that.
Could I just stop breathing and make up for it all?
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