Blue eyes gave the reason to spit these words in spite But now she regrets everything in regards to me She better stop those pretty eyes from gazing
You say You love her But you don't Love her She's another Scrubber. You are miserable, And I'm sure it's not my place But you knew girlfriends Not to
Ahoy there! All aboard! This relationship is leaving shore. Anchors aweigh as I set sail, Through choppy seas, rain storms and gales. The sun is rising
Street lights shine bright, illuminating Watford High Street on a Monday night. Fat slags are ?dressed to kill? with their short skirts barely covering
Lately I?ve noticed things have changed in this town, They aint the same as they used to be and it really fucking brings me down. I go to shows to watch
on the train or bus, then get into work and discuss their opinions on dumbed down politics, the politicians and their dirty tricks. I?m not saying that I know much more than
I close my eyes and think of nice things like summer in the park when I was riding my bike. Life was so much easier when I was 8, now I?m bitter, I
On the way home, I'm over thinking thoughts being thought again. Trending topics are romance, finance and friends. I'm not scared enough (I'm not scared
My tongue's tied and I don't know what to say You're sitting next to me, but you're so far away Slipping like sand through the fingers that once held
Wishing I was someone else, It?s my own fault that I?m fucked up but I still worry about my mental health. I?ve g-g-got a stutter and the memory of a
Dear Dad, I think about you every now and then, I hope to God that I don?t turn out like you as I grip this pen. Every time you cross my mind, I cross
I'm going where nobody knows, To a place far away from my worries and my woes, Escape for a day, in the trees so I can play In a house made of sticks
My teeth are clenched so tight my gums will bleed, As I watch the filth pig out and begin to feed from the flesh of whores, Off the bones of the ignorant
sudden feeling of four walls. Kill me now before boredom does, I?ll be bored 6ft under the boring world above. Bored, B-O-R-E-D, I?m bored-er than paint
I?ve been pacing all the back streets, small steps, cigarette in hand, both feet barely touching the ground and I can?t find my lighter. My mouth is
The innocent have shamrocks in his eyes, His blood is heritage, this Irish boy cannot hide. I'd beach to the rhythm of the strumming, of the valley bad
In three years, they'll all have careers, And I can't deny my contempt. For all the people that I know, Who've all found somewhere else to go, A place
If I tried, I just might Be able To cut down to a few a day. With every cig I light, I have every price to pay. I'll easily smoke two packs. Or maybe