Chewing Broken Glass



Somtimes talking to you is like chewing broken glass
I like scratching my arm until it bleeds
I’d like to walk over to your house
But it’s not possible and so I stay at home
and [turn on] the telephone

Sometimes when I’m alone,
I don’t want to die
Sometimes when I’m asleep
I’m less of a creep
I’d like to crawl all over you sometime soon
I’d like to feel like a flower in bloom
Maybe I will soon

Sometimes, I despise the position I’m in
I can’t disguise the fact that I can’t win
I’m tired of feeling like a hole in the floor
I want to walk around until I feel sure
like I was before but I’m not sure what I’m bothering for
I’m not sure what I’m bothering for…