Don't believe me when I say I'm sorry,
I don't mean anything I say.
A faithless face amongst faceless faces,
a bad decision made in good faith.
I'm cold to all illustrious distractions Lost to love,
work and play.
Stuck in my own world of pallid abstractions,
forcing out these things to say.
Cos I was lost when I called you mother,
I didn't realise you felt the same.
And I was drunk when I called you father,
but know you're not to blame
Cos I did this to myself,
no I can't blame anybody else.
And when the photographs
that line your shelves belong to somebody else,
you know it's time for change.
Please forgive me for my boring stories,
I've never felt that much at all.
Just floated through life chasing money,
a sack full of meat and bone.
And with every start all I see is the finishing line,
every new beginning I just see the end.
And I'll bite the loving hand that's fed me,
time and time again.
Cos I did this to myself,
no I can't blame anybody else.
The photographs that line my shelves,
belong to somebody else.
And in this ongoing war,
my favorite smell is petrichor:
the scent straight after rain--
an illusion of beginning again.