so here's to hoping that someday, something that I say will start to make any shred of sense. always unopposed and unnecessary. my thoughts making sure my hands won't ever stop shaking. but all the words I use to calm my nerves, they have to spill and find a place to rest. anywhere at all besides my head, besides my head. anywhere at all besides my head. so I'll avoid simple lines about you breaking everything because you still don't want anyone to think of you that way - while you're speaking of grief, pretend to know how I feel, like I don't wake up every morning repeating the same old phrases: to let go, to have hope. to let go, have hope, and see through the pressure. it must be hard to convince yourself you know what I need. you should stick to catchy hooks and all those pretty melodies. stepping on anyone to achieve your selfish dreams, ripping friends apart at the seams, hoping that no one, no one sees. there's not much to say about my progress. so, how's your progress? so, how's your progress?


from Lost Boy | Midland City Split, released April 4, 2014



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