Let's play doctor.
We'll buy some shitty bicycles and hang out in the woods for a few days.
You know, honey, there's a reason that I can't fall asleep without something talking or singing into my ears.
There have been only two occasions where I haven't done so:
the first was in rehab (one of many), they didn't let us have music.
So I stared at the ceiling there and wondered why I wasn't dead, and some of my friends were.
The second was the weekend of January 11th.
Maybe your parents pick you apart,
and, maybe I grew up with a drunk for a father.
It made me wonder why I wasn't enough. Enough to make him stop.
But then you realize, it has nothing to do with you; it never did.
It never did.
Everybody's just trying to get over their things, you know?
So if everything works out, one glorious night will come when you'll be impressed by the soul that comes from your own fingers on guitar strings, and I'll put down the headphones before bed.
And also, I should probably let you know that I daydream about taking a cab to her house, pulling her behind said house and beating the living shit out of her, until somebody hears and tears me off of her.
And then I spit on her, and tell her that I hope one day before she dies she realizes that I'll get you to let it go, but that I never will.
That's probably not healthy, but, I never was one for conventionality.
I hope your sun rises before I do.