You can count all you like, but it won't add up
In your tired mind, or your more tired book
You killed it today, as if it hasn't meant anything,
Forgetting the weight of what used to have meaning
It used to have meaning
Abrading, watching as you shave this down to nothing,
until there's nothing left
Waiting, as you arm yourself with turpentine
and burn me off just like the rest
So you've drained all the life, from these swollen lungs
To dumb down the time, and egg on the rust
You killed it today, as if it hasn't meant anything
Forgetting the weight, of what used to have meaning
Abrading, watching as you shave this down to nothing,
until there's nothing left
Waiting, for you to arm yourself with turpentine
and burn me off just like the rest
Would you be happy then?
All this for nothing