Without you my life has become a hangover without end
A movie made for TV:
Bad dialogue, bad acting, no interest
Too long with no story and no sex
Is it a kind of weakness to miss someone so much?
To wish the day would go away
[Like you did yesterday?
Just like you did yesteray?]
And I can't think of a way to get through this pain
To be happy again, to make it all alright
I know it must be bad 'cause sitting here right now, all I know is
I can't even think!
I can't even think of anything clever to say
To say, so I say:
Why pretend any longer?
'Cause I need you here with me
It's obvious that I miss you so much
So please say you're gonna stay
So please say you're gonna stay
So please say you're gonna stay
The night is getting darker now
And there's nothing on TV
But I'll sit tight till morning light
Yeah, I'll wait until the day
Until the day that you say you're gonna stay
Without you, my life has become:
A wait for something new, or something old to return
A coffin: empty, but it's better empty, because what could be there is
not right
A war: tragedies left behind are hard to think of, so it's best not to
let them enter your mind
A melted icecream: a lovable thing gone to waste
What have I become, ask me?
What has become of me?
I am exactly as I was before. I even smile, too. But something
died in me, like a giant whisker growing out of an otherwise flawless face.
You took me and filled me with things I never believed existed, at least,
I never believed they did for me, and people like myself. You filled
me, and then you took an icecream scoop, and you carved all of it out of
me. You left a papier mache form of what I was there for me to move
and live in, but what filled me once upon a time is no longer there.
Nobody notices what has died in me, and that doesn't matter. It's
like death: you can get away from it if you don't think about it too much,
but it'll always get you in the end.
You carved me and you moulded me as if I was your clay until you had what
you saw was fit, and then you photographed my shadow as it stood in your
light. Then you crushed me into a shapeless being, and gave me the
photograph, in an effort to let me grow on my own..
I gave you a lot, too, don't you remember? I shaped you, too, and
I gave you so much. I gave you Radiohead! Doesn't that mean
anything to you? I gave you what mattered most to me, and you'll
never know what that is. Not in a way I can see, at least.
I'm selfish and greedy and bitter about this, granted, but I think it's
understandable.
I'm not ok. I'm not happy. I want to be happy. I know
that [And is this the greatest irony? :-)]
