The Lawrence Arms

With a light of this match I could

Burn this place to the ground

then fire engines'd scream down

Crowded streets onto the scene

and then I'd make it rain

Numb myself to never say your name

That I've uttered in anger

Said with confusion

Laughed over nervously

Said without sympathy

I'm not shedding tears for you

All those lonely nights that I've

Said “feels like I might as well be dead”

No more smiles, revolving like turnstiles

No more deliberation, analytical creations

I'm incapable, a predepressionist

This is delivered with courage

Muddled in tension

Lashed out in honesty

Someone come and save me

I'm dying to tell you

This kills it forever

It was already dead

And I'm just fine

I haven't called you but I haven't had the time

Thoughts are stale

I've been revolving like turnstiles