"sing like you think no one's listening"
"Shrapnel".
Rain like bullets hits the windshield
Sitting with feet on the dashboard
Something you can only do when the car has stopped.
The car stopped long ago and has left me inside
Pulled over on the empty road
And my hand has hovered over the emergency call
One million times,
But I haven't pressed it in.
After all,
Who would I be calling?
If you are afraid of me,
then I am doing something wrong.
Or maybe something right.
Far from the teenage suicide dreamers in the Daily Mail,
where they made fear, cults, and chemicals
out of sad kids with guitars,
I dream of a future where I'm happy.
It took me a long time to realise
that most people look in the mirror
and don't see anyone except themselves.
The girl in the glass is nice,
maybe we could be friends.
I wonder if she is caged, too.
I pace the lengths of my mind like DiCamillo's tiger,
imagining the lives I could have lived.
But for now I spike my hair,
button my shirt,
and close my eyes.
Old gas stations go by
and storm-ruined strip malls
filled with empty stores where no one wants to shop.
My relationship with my hometown is strained.
We're divorced, but see each other on the weekends.
The government wishes I would kill myself,
but I don't want to die,
and besides, I've got so many places to go.
"I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant."
"It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."
The night is filled with gunshots and fireworks
And it's the Fourth of July
But I don't feel like celebrating,
so I stay inside.
Will I ever die?|
If someone's gonna hold my funeral,
I think they should check first
just to make sure that they're burying me.
My thoughts are silently deafening loud,
and music is nothing but resonant sound.
Yet somehow it's something I can't live without.
Isn't that a funny thing?\