- 7
- Posts
- 12
- Years
- California
- Seen Nov 19, 2011
I wrote a song. The rhythm is a little off. It had to be for the meaning to get through how I wanted, but I might rework it later.
Up again at 3 am, staring at the wall,
Learning what it's like to be the farthest you can fall,
But the pictures burned into my head, will haunt me even in my dreams,
My mind begins to break at the seams,
My friend pours back his whiskey like it's going out of style,
And every time I ask him why, all he does is sadly smile,
Says "This world's just not the place I thought it'd turn out to be,
And you care too goddamn much, you're gonna end up just like me,"
So I went to see my brother, found a bullet in his brain,
The note told me he'd put it there, to try to ease his pain,
But I knew exactly who had been the one to hold the knife,
The wolves go on, but my brother lost his life,
As we stood before the grave, my sister didn't shed a tear,
She'd already seen the worst in seventeen short years,
I watched her hands curl into fists and then clasp themselves to pray,
I wished that I could comfort her, but I had nothing to say,
And that night I shuddered helplessly as I tried to fall asleep,
My throat too tight to scream, and my eyes to dry to weep,
But the truth I found was so unfair, I could only wonder why,
The good people get to live and us bad people have to die
Up again at 3 am, staring at the wall,
Learning what it's like to be the farthest you can fall,
But the pictures burned into my head, will haunt me even in my dreams,
My mind begins to break at the seams,
My friend pours back his whiskey like it's going out of style,
And every time I ask him why, all he does is sadly smile,
Says "This world's just not the place I thought it'd turn out to be,
And you care too goddamn much, you're gonna end up just like me,"
So I went to see my brother, found a bullet in his brain,
The note told me he'd put it there, to try to ease his pain,
But I knew exactly who had been the one to hold the knife,
The wolves go on, but my brother lost his life,
As we stood before the grave, my sister didn't shed a tear,
She'd already seen the worst in seventeen short years,
I watched her hands curl into fists and then clasp themselves to pray,
I wished that I could comfort her, but I had nothing to say,
And that night I shuddered helplessly as I tried to fall asleep,
My throat too tight to scream, and my eyes to dry to weep,
But the truth I found was so unfair, I could only wonder why,
The good people get to live and us bad people have to die