Sunday, May 24, 2015

Dying.

In the dead of the night,
When our beers have turned,
Warmer then our hearts,
As your drunkin ramble starts,
I beg you not to,
This one time,
I ask you polite,
If you might,
Leave it at I miss you,
Cause that is honestly,
All there it is to,
But you can't,
You tell me you need me,
Yet I know, oh I know,
That you need my words,
Cause I see the way you keep on,
Pouring in drinks that are stonger then you,
It's like you hope the stenght,
Will rubb of on you,
You feel as another brick in the wall,
So you want me,
To paint you,
Make you as jolly,
As the way you laugh,
When were together jolly,
But darling,
In the dead of the night,
When she glasses have been turned,
All of your bridges have been burned,
Do you really expect,
Me to for see you,
Of an advice on what to do?
Live how you want, do what you aught,
Just don't pull me under to get caught,
I want someone free,
One just alone for me,
I want you all in,
Or not even a begin...
That the only thing,
I go begging for,
In or out the door?
I am dying for you to stop trying,
Win me over...
To the dead of the night,
Thinking I might save you,
But I won't, I'm not even trying to.


you don't live, you died, and now you try, to ask me,
to die as well, your dying, your dying, but I am not trying to save you.





















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