Tearing away at my fabric
the magic's in absentia
drowning in dementia
sitting by the phone
standing, pacing, suffocating
facing the closeness of being alone
waking, thinking, breaking down
lying here waiting to be found
and it's empty
the clock tick tocks in casacades
i block out all the lip locks of past days
and turn bitter
not knowing who to blame for the growing pain
its a crap shoot and we crapped out
the type of dispute we laughed about
water under the bridge
hang in there, kid
water over the damn
's the only way i know to be a man
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I write what i like
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