Bury me with this note, a pen, a watch, and glasses because its taken time but Ive realized that stories are meant to be told, not repressed and told as footnotes in disguise. When I read your note it gave me some insight to the pain you felt inside and it made me realize that sometimes even if we dont have egos we all have foolish pride. Pull the plug and leave just a card and a calculator on my bed, cause it appears Ive finally addressed all my problems that Ive known of but have so long dread. Sometimes it feels like when I take a step forward, I will take two back, and my train of thought is derailed like a intercity train run off track One day I heard a story of a kid and it struck a chord in my spinal chord, and when I wanted to sell it, I lost locked up focus and the story I wanted to run by you ran off course. I heard a hint of alienation in his tone, the scar on his face told a story of abuse and as I opened my ears after taking my eyes off the hanging noose, I heard that even in a room with 10,000 people he felt trapped as well as alone He was introspective by nature and pulled out the quick silver and sketched his heart onto his sleeve, and even though he knows crisis will bring people closer, as soon as it doesnt unload their holy conscience, they will surely flake or soon after leave. He notices that people change position frequently like it was porn, he observes that the day were most appreciated is not the days we live, but the misty day were born Hes covered with doubt as if insecurities were packed in the tear filled droplets of rain. And even if hes soaked with tentative intent with sleepier demeanor than after taking a sedative, his doubt never worries me in fact what flows in his throat could never ease his pain. Left only with what angers him to deal with all alone, and when he knocks on the door for help he finds that there are people at his house but nobody at home The bell left unanswered, the voice message thrown in the trash can. The ignorant sheep ignored, the door slammed and thoughts written down blown away after being hit by the breezy but not cold fan Even when he states what needs to be, he still doesnt feel united in the mind, cause when he looks for authenticity he realizes hes the last of a fallen kind. Hes realized that the only way to see past the transparency corrupting children is by making Plan A suicide, but then he reflects on the memories of his past he internalizes what kills him inside Hes unable to articulate the things he thinks about every night, and even after writing this song, his message sinks to the floor like an envelope with a heartfelt letter inside
he, story, chord, even, internalizes