Some things never change.
This weight is nothing new.
Freeing yourself is the hard part,
the hardest of parts.
Learning to lift this weight..
You can’t force someone to look at you
and just know, and just understand.
Without having to say a word.
It doesn’t work like that.
So you pick yourself up,
without anybody asking what’s wrong.
Or really giving a damn even if they do ask.
You only really have yourself to rely on.
And even when you are surrounded by wonderful people
that fact can still make you feel alone.
So here we stand,
singing the same old song.
Pick yourself up again.
Nobody else will.
Her body is made out of swords
Her blood is of iron and her heart of glass
She survived through countless battles
Not even once retreating
Not even once being understood
She was always alone
Intoxicated with victory in a hill of swords
Thus, her life has no meaning
That body was certainly made out of swords
I like Tim. Too bad he doesn’t fuckin’ care.
“Father’s Day.. huh..”
“Looks like another lazy day for me! Anyone want to hang out?”