the television glows. another night spent crumbling
just listening to you moan. you monkey with a microphone. your redundant
useless voice
constantly a dull and distant noise. you're just screaming into the wind. you're just screaming into the wind. i'm focusing my hate. but it's hollow
unsubstantiated. you're an easy mark
and i just need a target right now. i can't face myself. i can't honestly own up to who i am. i'm just screaming into the wind. i'm just screaming into the wind. guilt is relative. so is sin. it makes it easy to pretend. a bicycle is humming and it's carrying me home. the sun is red and headed for the west. i'm finding ways to rearrange me. i should be content
but i'm still terrified
cause i can't tell a realization
a rationalization
or nostalgia from regret. oh no. i'm just screaming into the wind. i'm just screaming into the wind. guilt is relative. so is sin. it makes it easy to pretend.