The Solipsistic Hypochondriac Must Feel Somewhat Hopeless, Huh?

I’m so sick of silence that I keep on screaming

Even after the sound is long gone with the dreaming

Deep inside the quiet just to reason out a riot of woeful whispers...

And are we just symptoms of your sickness

Just victims of this thoroughbred thickness

The space between your eyes and thoughts and lies and the lot you’ve bought yourself?

I don’t want to be another pawn in your game of dark and light

But I still try and try so hard tonight

You’ve got me, you’ve still got me here holding on...

And are we just liars who are trying too hard

Like burning tires in your bashful brain’s jaded junkyard

Living out your reckless dreams and happy nightmares?

I held your hand through the first steps of this falling out

But even now the ghosts have handguns, and I doubt

That you or I and certainly not myself will make it out of this alive...

And are we just hyper-vigilant reminders of

All the inadequacies we’ve been taught to so easily find in love

As a generation is drowning to just call the cops and hold your tongue?

I am all of them, but they were never me

So cast aside all your regrets but don’t forget who you want this to be

If we’re gonna make it, it’ll take a longer rope and fewer steps apart...

And are we your last hope for redemption

I’ll fight till my dying breath and baby you’re no exception

But are we gonna have to shut up and be honest about it for once?