Finally set
Everything I need
Now it's on the table
My eyes bleed
But fully prepared
To show you what you'll get.
This is all I have, I guess
Blank paper, black pen
Words fighting in my head
Flying in the air
Counting to ten
God, what a mess.
Writing down every fucking thought
Everything that goes through my head
Don't know to use them loud
But couldn't stay wordless
Expressing feelings not to feel dead.
I guess that's all I have
Old paper and my black ink pen
'Cause what to do with all these feelings
Other's stayed to play deaf
Letting inside out all my things
That's all I can
I guess.
