I’m sorry if I don’t seem to have a soul,
But it’s no fault of my own.
I don’t want to spend my days
Playing all your childish games.
I don’t think you really know what it’s like to be alive,
You take it for granted that it’s what you need to survive.
A little every day is good for you and me,
But why is it too hard for you to see the shadow by the door
scraping like the wolves that want to get inside
the little nuances of a million broken liars
making words out of paper tufts
and smiles out of paper cups
it’s enough to make me sick.
I’m sorry if I appear to be a bit cold,
But that’s what happens without a soul.
You can close your eyes and ignore the malaise
And live alone for the rest of your days.
There’s no need to argue; we don’t have to fight.
Let us forget who is wrong; we know who is right.
Let us just lie where we are in the absence of light.
Let us dream here together on the whims of the night
that carries your lies to the other side
the influence of a million jaded buyers
making money out of trees
and forgiveness out of pleas
it’s enough to make me think.
Though our differences are a great gulf between us
We have everything to try for.
Even though it may be easier for us to say goodbye
It’s something to die for.
I’m sorry for living.