2004-06-26 - 1:08 p.m.

i said it with a second chance and a forgetful smile

i said it with the faint glimmer of suicide

i taste my wreckage in our conversations

deep under the faint hums of far gone engines

with all signal flare blazing we lay somewhere in between

the smear of yellow lines and a year of empty promises

i long for the grant of wings

i long for the dead of night when all of this passes

you never meant those three words

now i can't remember how to set my heart alight

you never meant a word, not a fucking word of it

i am so sick of good-byes, so sick of committing suicide

i am so sick of the in between now and then

so sick of swinging the hammer

so sick of my suicide

of burying every hero that i had, every hero that i had" - Converge

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