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.
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