My dear friends, or whoever may be listening. I am exhausted. through with looking for truth. Please don't think hatefully upon my disposition. It's not that I fear speech, no words come to mind.
Memories fade, colors start to show. When the fuck did I sink so low? Through the glass I see a portrait. A portrait of a stranger, so much stranger to you and I.
My dear friends, I know you've grown tired. Tired of my ramblings, of whatever haunts my mind. Hopeful wishing especially of the past is a black pit to fall into. I truly miss all of you, but honestly I miss myself more.
Track Name: Clint
Gloomy Sunday afternoon. You always tell yourself it's never too soon. Weak knees on old chapel stairs. Is she there or does she know? But what do you really care?
Melting down your memories on hotel silverware. Coursing through your blood, does it get you somewhere?
Hazy burning bloodshot eyes. Free me you scream in your demise. Another couple hundred strung out smoke screen nights. Make sure to always keep your fix just so that you feel right. Do you feel right at home?
Your lost in your mind. Will you ever come down?
Woozy, you're lost in your mind. Lose me, you'll never come down.
Track Name: Parking Lot
Underneath the film of smoke weighing down low you can see it.
Moving shadows across the way, shifting eyes tell your story.
I really wanna know what's in your mind. I really wanna know just where you hide. I need to know, I need your soul under these parking lot lights.
Does it help you sleep? Or make you feel better?