smoking out the car window

Saturday, November 27, 2004

Why is it that people like to judge us?
And why is it that people criticise?

Why is it that I am putting myself into your shoes
And asking myself these questions?

Why is it that he would love you
And simply pass me by?

And I know that we could be happier than what you are now
And I know that sometimes you could get a little insecure

Because my ghost still haunts you when your curtains are drawn
And your eyes create shadowy figures that tap on your window

And your fear drives you to query him
And make him pledge his allegiance to you

But I would love to creep further into your subconsciousness
And perhaps fiddle with the screws that hold your sanity intact

So why is it that I lose out in the end?
And it is always me who never gets it?

And I make myself out to be so much more desperate than I actually want to be
And the world seems to have no place for me

Why do I find myself sometimes wishing I was you?
And wanting to hurt you?

Because sometimes I watch you live your life
And I think that it is far from fair

That you get to be happier than me
Even though you are not a lot better than me

And if he wanted me to be you I could be
And I could even be better than you and me

But sometimes what I regret is what I try to be thankful for
And if you analyzed me you would think I was pathetic

And then you would tell him to avoid me
And he perhaps would

And I would stealth into your veins
And poison you with doubts

So paranoid he would feel afraid
And you would too

And guess what?
He would be left with what he had in the first place

And the only people happy
Would be the people who knew him before you came along

So don’t you think I am a blessing?
And don’t you think I am the victim?
Don’t you? Don’t you? Don’t you?

supernovva +
7:03 AM