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.
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