all i've got in times like this
are a sore throat and a hurting fist
and somehow an out of tune guitar, and a pen provide me
with such sour intimacy, just the cold comfort i need.
and i'll try to go sleep now but
i'm not really fooling anyone
my heart says 'give up on you, wipe away the tears'
but the rest of me remembers how it is without you here
theres one more thing i never got to ask you,
why did you sometimes push me away.. without ever really letting me go?
could it be that you just wanted me to
turn my back away, because, you didn't really know how to let me go
"this is math. and i'm not good at math.
an algebraic equation where a negative must become a positive,
in hopes of reaching the final solution.
but this is math. and i'm not good at math."
maybe i should make this song,
make this song the last sad one
i ever write for you again, but i know i'll just let you hurt me
again and again and again because i'm just that simple, just that empty
