Relapse. Relapse. Relapse. Relapse.
......."I'm starting to relapse, I guess."
"What's that mean?"
"Relapse, like when you are addicted to something, then you stop, then you go back to it."
"I know what relapse means. I'm saying what do you wanna do about it?"
"See you. Talk to you. anything."
"Okay. Well I'll hit you up when I leave work. I'm sorry.."
...yeah, so am I. More than you know.
I want to develop a plan to make you want me.
I want to punch you in the stomach with the look I give you when I leave you. Leave you hanging.
Leave me like you left me years ago. Not physically of course. Just metaphorically. Just emotionally. Just my heart and my brain and my lungs and my heart and my heart and my heart.
Did I mention-- oh.. i did?
I can't think up something better or imagine anything sweeter than leaving you. Not physically of course. Just metaphorically. Just emotionally. Just your heart and your brain and your lungs and your heart and your heart and-- catching my drift?
Get up.
Get out.
Get away from me.
Now or later. I mean later or never.
I mean never, not ever.
Don't you dare fucking leave me.
I'm here to leave you.
I'm here to see you.
To touch you.
To want you, no need you.
Here I go, changing my mind.
Something you're more used to than I am.
I've always had my mind set on you and my brains and my lungs and my heart and my heart and my--.
I want to make you hurt.
I want to make you bleed out of your eyes and your ears and your lungs and your heart and your heart and your heart until you have nothing left in you to fight with or for.
Not that you ever put up a fight in the first place.
You were never one for speaking your opinion.
You're quiet.
I want to crash my car into your quiet, no silent, vocal chords.
Smear your guts on my windshield then smile at the fact that there won't be anything there.
Guts are something you've never had (and probably never will).
You're a weak piece of shit who I shouldn't give a fuck about.
But I gave a fuck to. A few. A hundred, no, more.
I can't write anything clever to make you see me better.
But I can write what I think about so only I understand it.
relax. breath. crash my car again.
this time into yours. make that piece of shit die. So I can't hear you coming down the street any longer.
I don't want to hear that fucking Blazer again.
Too loud and obnoxious. hurts my fucking ears and my head and my brain and my lungs and my heart and my heart and my--.
You are in every cigarette I smoke.
Every line of coke.
Every pill I blow.
Every lick on my lips.
Every blunt hit.
Leave me alone, leave my heart and my head and my brain and my lungs and my heart and my heart.
Come home, come back to my heart and my head my brain and my lungs and my heart and my heart.
relapse. relapse. relapse. relapse.
"What's that mean?"
"Relapse, like when you are addicted to something, then you stop, then you go back to it."
"I know what relapse means. I'm saying what do you wanna do about it?"
"See you. Talk to you. anything."
"Okay. Well I'll hit you up when I leave work. I'm sorry.."
...yeah, so am I. More than you know.
I want to develop a plan to make you want me.
I want to punch you in the stomach with the look I give you when I leave you. Leave you hanging.
Leave me like you left me years ago. Not physically of course. Just metaphorically. Just emotionally. Just my heart and my brain and my lungs and my heart and my heart and my heart.
Did I mention-- oh.. i did?
I can't think up something better or imagine anything sweeter than leaving you. Not physically of course. Just metaphorically. Just emotionally. Just your heart and your brain and your lungs and your heart and your heart and-- catching my drift?
Get up.
Get out.
Get away from me.
Now or later. I mean later or never.
I mean never, not ever.
Don't you dare fucking leave me.
I'm here to leave you.
I'm here to see you.
To touch you.
To want you, no need you.
Here I go, changing my mind.
Something you're more used to than I am.
I've always had my mind set on you and my brains and my lungs and my heart and my heart and my--.
I want to make you hurt.
I want to make you bleed out of your eyes and your ears and your lungs and your heart and your heart and your heart until you have nothing left in you to fight with or for.
Not that you ever put up a fight in the first place.
You were never one for speaking your opinion.
You're quiet.
I want to crash my car into your quiet, no silent, vocal chords.
Smear your guts on my windshield then smile at the fact that there won't be anything there.
Guts are something you've never had (and probably never will).
You're a weak piece of shit who I shouldn't give a fuck about.
But I gave a fuck to. A few. A hundred, no, more.
I can't write anything clever to make you see me better.
But I can write what I think about so only I understand it.
relax. breath. crash my car again.
this time into yours. make that piece of shit die. So I can't hear you coming down the street any longer.
I don't want to hear that fucking Blazer again.
Too loud and obnoxious. hurts my fucking ears and my head and my brain and my lungs and my heart and my heart and my--.
You are in every cigarette I smoke.
Every line of coke.
Every pill I blow.
Every lick on my lips.
Every blunt hit.
Leave me alone, leave my heart and my head and my brain and my lungs and my heart and my heart.
Come home, come back to my heart and my head my brain and my lungs and my heart and my heart.
relapse. relapse. relapse. relapse.
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