Songs I Write | VIII

Hatchet

I woke up on the left side of the bed
I had made it known with my tone
You woke up fine, I must've made you lose your head
When you punched my hand into the wall of our home
I'm not sure if it's my fault or if I'm caught between a rock and a hard place
Being the one you love and the one you cast your misery on, is there a difference in the disgrace?

You lied and you cheated
I was mortified and beaten
I put up a fist but went down with yours
I tried without reason
It's insufferable treason
I'm suffering in silence from yours

And I know I promised I'd never tell a soul
But running out to the field again with the hatchet, I'm running out of holes

I simply must have a note taped to my back in permanent pen
Seeking out poison or otherworldly attack from a burdening friend

You lied and you cheated
I was mortified, senselessly beaten
I put up a fist but went down with yours
I tried without leaving
It's insufferable, breathing
I'm suffering in silence from yours

And I know I promised I'd never tell a soul
But running out to the field again with the hatchet, I'm running out of holes

I'm not sure if it's my fault or if I'm caught between a rock and a hard place from
Being the one you love and the one you cast your misery on

And I know I promised I'd never tell a soul
But running out to the field again with the hatchet, I'm running out of holes

And I know I promised I'd never tell a soul
But running out to the field again, I fear one of us told