Rainy Days
(Alright)
I see trees of green, and red roses too. It's the prettiest thing I've seen, but I'm still missin' you. Watch as clear skies turn grey, and mottled dark blue, you're my umbrella when it rains, and some thunderstorms are due. I stand up and see that the walls are closing in but I don't fight it cause I know I'll never be with you again. All the battles are over, there's none for me to win. My time is running short, and it's time to look within. All my inner demons, voices inside my head, that keep telling me I'd be better off dead. With a bullet in my head, or OD'd in my bed, or with a hatchet in my skull, bled out in the backyard shed. Sometimes I cannot sleep so I just stare up at the ceiling, all the breaks in the tile, and the paint cracking and peeling. When I'm alone and by myself, my thoughts intrude my feelings. So I get down on my knees and pray that God can do the healing.
It's these rainy days when the sky is solid grey. Feels like I owe the world, and my dues gotta be paid. Wish I could sculpt a new model of myself outta some clay, but it's time to let my body just rot away and decay. Every now and then I wonder "Is it my time to go away? The universe just feels like a game that I cannot play." but I push those thoughts aside and drudge through another day, and push the rest of the joint way down in the ash tray.
Walking down the street I see you're with another man. My brain couldn't take it so I turned around and ran. Y'all were acting all cute, and holding each other's hands, I could practically already see the fucking wedding bands. Everything I thought we had turned out to be a sham, I'm ready to drive into head-on traffic with my van. Or throw myself in front of a speeding sedan, with a bomb on my chest and two guns in both my hands. So fuck it, I'm ready to end it all. I already tried the hotline but they hung up on my call, I'm just a few minutes away from having my brains all on the wall, never had a rise to grace but I guess this is my fall. So please, when you hear of this news don't be appalled, after all, the writing was being written in blood all over the wall.
It's these rainy days when the sky is solid grey. Feels like I owe the world, and my dues gotta be paid. Wish I could sculpt a new model of myself outta some clay, but it's time to let my body just rot away and decay. Every now and then I wonder "Is it my time to go away? The universe just feels like a game that I cannot play." but I push those thoughts aside and drudge through another day, and push the rest of the joint way down in the ash tray.