You will worry if I told you that today I won't worry
I will worry tomorrow and every day thereafter
Because that's what I do
And you will tell me not to worry
Because that's what you do
I will tell you my worries, but you won't understand -
There is no one on the other side of the line
And I've lost my invitation to The Last Supper
Sometimes I feel like selling out to become public possession
I feel sorry for you - infatuated lover - telling me that I am beautiful
I have seen beauty, and it's not in my broken mirror.
I see it in you and your self-imposed belief that I complete you
How can I make you whole when I am not?
I feel old and useless - my body and being tired
Sometimes I would rather not breathe and just wally on my self-pity
Cornered in apathy; abnegating your sympathy, which you so mildly provide for my ignorance
... and anticipate oblivion