Unspokens

Standing upon a bridge bound to two places one steeped in guilt and shame, the other burning with absolute rage, both calling my name like they have known me longer than I have known myself. And I am tired of choosing. And I cannot find my way out, so I lay myself down upon the cold ground, waiting for lightning to tear through my body, every single part of it, one by one, all in a moment, till I’m gone. What if I’m guilty and still worth saving? My hand’s still red. God knows, it’s my own blood. What if, somewhere beyond this, that angel who remembers I wasn’t like this before, before I learned how to scratch at every part of my soul, would come saying, “You can start it over without swallowing that old bane over and over again just because you call it love.” Maybe she’s coming to find me there still breathing, more human than I’m willing to believe.

دونستن راجب چیزی، حتی فقط به میزان کمی بیشتر از عموم مردم هیچوقت چیزی جز ناامیدی و خشم بسیار برای من برجای نگذاشته. خداروشکر بابت همه ی چیزهایی که نمیدونم و در اآینده هم ممکنه هست هیچوقت اونهارو ندونم.

What wasted unconditional love On somebody who doesn't believe in that stuff Oh, well

You came upon me like a hypnic jerk when I was just about settled And when it counts you recoil with a cryptic word and leave a love belittled Oh, what a cold and common old way to go When I was feeding on the need for you to know me Devastated at the rate you fell below me

Nothing wrong when a song ends in the minor key

And while I'm in this body I want somebody to want And I want what I want And I want You To love me You.

And I know none of this'll matter In the long run But I know a sound is still a sound Around no-one

I move with the trees In the breeze I know that time is elastic And I know when I go All my particles disband and disperse And I'll be back in the pulse