[pre]The Wind
So maybe this is what I want,
or maybe I've just lied to myself enough
that I'm convinced it is.
I wonder why I've stopped caring,
about everyone
and everything.
Maybe this is what I want.
I've dropped myself out of life
and I've to fall.
I'm falling,
I'm falling.
The wind is screaming at my self-destruction
It says, "Stick and stones may break your bones,
but you destroy yourself."
I'm falling,
I'm falling.
I'm waiting for the impact.
Waiting for the drop.
I guess I haven't landed yet,
anybody want to place any bets?
And when I land I wonder if it will be smooth
or come to a screeching violent halt.
Who wants to bet on it?
I hope somebody clears the runway
because I'm coming in,
and no one's in the watch tower
so I've got nothing to say.
The wind is still screaming at my self-destruction
It keeps saying "Sticks and stones may break your bones,
but you destroy yourself.
You destroy yourself. You destroy yourself. You destroy yourself.
And words will never hurt you.
[/pre]
