Your Voice

Your voice reminds me why going deaf aint so bad. And why the old men down at the park slowley go mad. It's filled with regret over what what never will be. That house in the hills. The fancy cars the side little pets and poolboys. Fake plastic faces to match the the fake personality's So now your voice fills with anger and a touch of failure. I here the rejection even in my sleep. It stabs me in my spine. Doing that which your own hatred does for you. You look to me as a inmate and as paycheck Were cellmates not lovers we torture for weve forgot to love. Your voice echos to my grave. saying you could at least taken out the trash befor you kicked the bucket you lazy bum.