I have a sad story,
I've told it before.
I have a sad story,
And you've told it before,
In it's casual glory,
That was to regulatory.
But how'd I say it,
But what'd I say,
But I don't know,
Cause the story bedded lies that I can't say,
Cause the story has bedded so many lies on my tongue that I can't lift my jaw to speak words that I don't know,
Cause lies bedded into the garden of my brain have grown into roses with thorns and they scratch my voice,
And they have become sun flowers that shine no light on the truth but grow tall tale lies, that leak water out my eyes.
I can't remember how it went,
I can't remember what I meant,
I can't remember the deleted message that I'd sent,
Because what I wanted,
To say,
What I'd,
Said.
And what I'd,
Meant,
We're all different.
But I'd let you read my thoughts,
But I'd warn you there's a lot,
So I'll aim the gun and I'll let you hear echos of the shots,
A penny for my thoughts?
