if I truly believed that looks could kill, I would fill 
my house with mirrors and stare deep into my eyes for 
days on end, praying for 'this nothing' to become 'that 
special something' we all crave. How can one man spend so 
much time fighting the PM, aching for AM? the dark seeps 
through my every pore. my eyes wired open, the ceiling 
fan buzzes in content, spinning out ZzZz's as it recycles 
my air. There's a Rocket line... 'kiss tomorrow 
goodbye'... add: 'when you grow up your heart dies' 
That's why I only say 'I love you' when I'm sleeping in 
and since I never sleep... I've got no love for myself. 
Maybe I think that the sixth string has a heart that 
breaks every time i play a chord, the chord that spits 
the word i spill back at me. when i die i'm cashing in 
every second that i've wasted, so i'll see you all again 
so. oh please! somebody hurt me so i scream! so everyone 
can see that there is passion left in me, i'll wear my 
scars like a badge of honour and wear my lungs on the 
outside of my shirt... just so they know i'm breathing. 
If i sing a song of clear blues, when yellow comes it 
just might sing me to sleep and i am sleeping with my 
clothes on because i haven't given up hope yet tonight