DaisiesMore Like This
Every day we hear the sounds,
Words that we wish to be told,
Coming imaginably from the voices.
Tell me what you see of me,
Let me know what I am showing.
Give it up,
I don't have strings,
You cannot pull me the way you want me to go.
We waste our words,
You don't understand what I'm trying to say,
I don't know what you mean.
Leave it be,
It's been dead for some time.
Kicking at it will do no good.
Why tell me that I'm so messed up,
I see it,
I live it,
I know it.
So give me your verbal beating,
And take your precious time.
It isn't as if I haven't heard it all before,
What difference does it make once or twice?
I'll have you know your words only prick.
Who am I to let them through to me,
Who am I to show there's always something wrong?
Why do you tell me I've screwed it over again,
I know when to beat myself up.
My heart's gone stiff,
It's no good to crack it,
It takes no effort to freeze over again.
Can't you see why I do this to you?