You scream that I don't have self-esteem and I wonder why that is. You save your own skin and tear mine off in the process, what pride should I invest in that?
I play scenes over in my mind of how my life should be and in every thought you're never there.
If I could get away with murder with you as my victim; I would.
L
Written on 30 November 2005 at 10:42 am
Up where they walk. Up where they run. Up where they stay all day in the sun. Wanderin' free. Wish I could be. Part of that world