Written by: Ira Dawson

I don’t wanna rhyme these words
Or strum these chords
Then lead the chorus and the verse.
And I don’t wanna make amends,
Or save these friends
Who left me when I needed them.
I can just hear your voice,
A siren on a hearse,
Letting death ricochet off the ones who hurt most. 
I can’t just play along
And right these wrongs
Then plead with placation when the sparks gone.
I can’t answer your calls,
In the dark of my car,
When I’m parked by your house with the lights all turned off.  
Feed my obsession.  
Fill me up till I’m miserable. 
Feed me.