I touch my face,
I close my eyes,
I treat my thoughts like a maze.
Pinned to the wall,
a sinner and a saint
interlock their legs.
And is this what I wanted?
I can tell it's not but,
what ever is?
It's just that I can't
seem to measure up
to those fake guitars,
and falsely broken hearts.
And the truth is,
I'm afraid.
And the truth is,
I'd give anything
to feel brave for just one day in my life.
Be my be my sequoia tree,
and I will be will be
better than I am right now.
be my be my sequoia tree
and i will clean, will clean
these thoughts that make me want to
stop breathing,
stop eating.
I just want to see the sun again.
And the truth is
I can't see.
and the truth is
I blame clarity.
becuase it's the only thing thats
never ever close to me.
I just want to take a breath and feel the air reach my lungs.
