i keep askin myself if i know enough
put a nail on something fleeting
put a cut on me and i'll cut you too
make me believe i aint bleeding
and not in a literal sense
this is strictly metaphor
my mind thinks in a past tense
about something i ain't got anymore
it's funny how things change
and others stay the same
and despite the honesty of my thoughts
i still feel ashamed
like trying to grapple with the gods
or catch the wind with a fishin net
i never felt so crushed by my thoughts
and the laughing face of my fears
is still fuckin laughing
and the only truth to retain is confusion
the sickle penetrating my fickle little mind
the only thing i grasp is delusion
and im choking it to death most of the time
and you can't fuckin tell me
this is what it is to be alive
these emotions bring down too much
to make them the center of my life
workin up the nerve to put a bullet in it
and let it fuckin die
but like i said this is just a metaphor
with the same impact as a passerby
and although i smile and say "hi"
i forget the moment in a minute
kinda like the spark of emotion
that is nothing more than a spark
with no flammables to ignite
in a universe of emptiness
im barely alive
