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I woke on the floor of Jake's apartment, |
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on the last night of a three month tour. |
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The room was asleep, but we wouldn't speak anyway. |
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I knew what you'd say. |
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So I laid on my back and traced the cracks in the ceiling |
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and hoped that it would collapse |
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and put and end to everything. |
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I need this day to end before it puts an end to me. |
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You'll get what you earn, |
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when you're just the fog that the dawn of reality burned. |
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And you're already gone. |
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I woke on the floor and when I turned to find you |
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you were already out the door. |
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You said, |
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"I can never be free, |
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I need last year back it holds the best of me." |
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You'll get what you earn, |
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when you're just the fog that the dawn of reality burned. |
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So read it in smoke and all those foul words on which I saw you choke |
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when you couldn't even believe yourself. |
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|
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You are no friend. |
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You are no foe. |
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You're just another name I should have never known. |
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You were my brother, you were my heart, |
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but some stories burn so others can start. |
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The past is all ash and that's where it should stay, |
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locked in a box full of yesterdays |
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and you can hold it tight, and you can keep it close, |
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but that is no place that you should call home. |
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Progress is key |
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so take what you earn |
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when some stories start and |
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Some stories burn. |