here sits the greatest liar,
biting at his kneecaps, because he can't control himself

they all want to feel that broken, they stand around him staring, at his obvious regret

bored hope, wont make a difference, to someone as empty as that

this is the sound we make, to fill this dead space
from far away, i'm on the telephone, you say its not enough, it doesn't fill enough,

i'm crumbling alone till i get drunk, then morning that will pass, and i'll be just as lonely, twice as boring no

but your not here when i get home, remembering i kissed your lips, they taste just like summer
"i think there's a word for this"

"touch!"

nothing ever scrapes these broken nerves, so i don't know what you did to touch them
i think about you when i am alone at night

you're all i really need if i could just be near you, stand next to you, now