This house reeks
of lack of sleep,
the air we breath
is tired of our scent.
And from all that time we spent,
how much of it was wasted?
I've got a bag full of notebooks
full of words I've strung together.
They're my attempts at beauty,
my attempts at understanding.
My attempts,
my attempts,
how many of them failures?
Well if you believe it,
then I guess it's true to you,
well if you believe it
then I guess it's true to you.
It's these people
all around me.
These people,
they destroy me.
These people,
all crumbling too;
destroying our world,
these people.
Well if you believe it,
then I guess it's true to you,
well if you believe it
then I guess it's true to you.
Who am I to say otherwise?