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Come Back to Me, Slum District
I am figures of redundancy
Transparency in layers
I am the nothing we aspire to
The potential that rots below us
We were lauded at finer points
When we considered ourselves young
And yet we are still young,
And we continue talking
I tire of our dreaming cycles
I grow bored of empty days
But it's a flip of a coin,
The result of a change
The fact that I am bored with everything
I gnaw at my insides
I chew on my tongue
I swallow my tonsils and cough up my heart
Looking for some substance
Wallowing on repeat,
Shallow in my regard
My ambition's gone, but I'm still here
And I'm so lonely
I gather my worth just to mock it all down
And beg another for reinforcement
I cannot bear to stand and work
For I work to live one more sad day
So I sit, and day dream
In haze, in the smoke
In the backseat of the car
And I pretend that I'm still a child
That has some promise, some purpose ahead
But alas, I awaken to find
The same house, the same cat, still mewing
And the same lack of everything that kills me here,
Little by little.
