I watched myself die, a gunshot to the heart, as tears began to poor from the sky. Tears cut rivers into my stone cold face, as I drift backwards, I feel like a disgrace, for this is the moment when I feel like running away, but I have no where to go, so I want her to know, that I watched myself die. She puts up a smile and kisses her new love, as the rain pours from above, as all fades to black, she turns her back, and walks away. I heard her say, I love you to me, but as I drift, no love I can see. I can feel the pain from the lie, as I watch myself die. it will be just a faded memory, of what nots, and to be's. You'll find someone James, they will speak, but as I fall backwards, I feel cold, and weak, because I dont have the energy to seek, another in my life, for I dreamt of this girl of being my wife. No real gun or knife, used in this death in anyway. I watched my self die today. The shot still rings my ears, and awakens all those very real fears, because my guess was right, and now my day is a everlasting night. The heavens cried with rain as they witnessed the end of the play. I watched myself die today

I see this city for what it is, Hung over from a drunk night of love and thizz, The scores of underaged mental ******, This city has its dope game sores, The blinking lights of dreams that may never be, And the burnt out saints singing of their misery, The deaf musicians holding for glory days, And quiet actors lips singing future unknown plays, And all the intellects and jocks are buying memories from the street on 4th, As we all look up with longing in the shadow of mount in north Painters obnoxiously using pastels made of broken hearts and deep cuts, While boozed up geniuses look with hope at their pile of cigarette butts, As we all hope for something more, We fail to smile at the witty and ugly *****, The failed nights of that fall cold, And the shyest writers with pros of mindsets that have forever danced away the feeling of bold, We all look up with longing in the shadow of the mount in the north, As we all put down our hands,
And fold.

I have dreams where I'm punching a wall, But my hands don't hurt and there's no hole at all, I'll punch and no one will hear, I punch, but only feel a greater fear, No blood or noise, So I pull back with poise and strike again and again, But nothing but a bent wrist and a straighshoot of sadness lingers in the air, My hands are fine and so is the wall, the window and the door, They aren't cut or hurt, only my pride bruised on the floor, I can't have this dream anymore

I have dreams where I'm punching a wall, But my hands don't hurt and there's no hole at all, I'll punch and no one will hear, I punch, but only feel a greater fear, No blood or noise, So I pull back with poise and strike again and again, But nothing but a bent wrist and a straighshoot of sadness lingers in the air, My hands are fine and so is the wall, the window and the door, They aren't cut or hurt, only my pride bruised on the floor, I can't have this dream anymore