We’re picking stitches out of the floor

We're picking stitches out of the floor... Are normal people ever this bored? To the point of self-destruction In order to feel some direction? News flash: We're catching comas to Feel alive; Taking pills when we're Already addicted. Of course we feel the sting of promises Beneath our skin, We're suns just waiting to happen;… Continue reading We’re picking stitches out of the floor


Bury the Hatchet

Bury the hatchet, Or better yet burn it And scatter the ashes so far across the sea We stand no chance of digging it up. 'Cause I know you, You'll get bored and start looking. At least this way We can only stand on the beach And reminisce in what It used to be.