candy apples

i can't even do it
i can't write a song
my mother says the same thing
she drops the emotional bomb

now, i lay in bed to sleep off the demons
that have plagued me all year
sucking my blood, spitting the fear
the end of the road is near

continuous paths driven to seclusion
i find hope in my barren isolation
the wasteland it follows for we are all apart of it
mother knows best, leisure time soon

cigarettes and candy apples
cotton candy and peanuts
we go to the ball game
but there's nobody playing

you'd think they'd have the nerve to keep the lights on
as if they wanted it, if they wanted more from me
in the sombre night time shadow of the moonlight
tri-colour conquistador hunter sword

just give it up, i'm told but she doesn't even know how to read
she is epitome of negativity, pushing my dreams aside so she can live through me forever
leaving me behind to age, with grey hair and up and down, around and falling

i leave you on that note, not a happy one indeed but hopefully this job at the Spec is all I ever need.

Gg