Pavlov's Fog.
My house is a hole but my clothes are clean, I walk outside like mr sheen, I bury my guilt and all my deeds; - The shallow impression you have of me.
I live in ruse and mask my health, Walk tall and proud - drink top of the shelf, But you don't know - it's not my earned; Haunted by my memories urn.
When I care I care too much, Peddle back with foot in mouth. I don't know how to be today. Tally up my fees or pay?
You throw the ball I catch it, You toss the dice I count, You rack ‘em up I blow it, Tomorrow isn't found.
I'm never going to be what I thought may have been a goal. I'll never supersede the things - the crowds subjective mould. But I can not stop loving even through a glaring hole... I didn't fucking put it here and psych 'don't make it sold.
My clothes unwashed - my house pristine, I walk outside with Charlie sheen, Sniffles through a line - my dream; The things we thought we might have been.
I throw the ball you catch it. Towards your foot in mouth. You don't know how to be today - Tally up your fees or pay. Cause we can never fetch it; No matter how it's thrown. No matter what the distance - This stitch can't be resewn.
But we don't need example; We don't need the light -
Just another 'fuckin chance to ....relive -this life.
