#or maybe i'll just regurgitate the old shite til someone notices

[the-timony-souler]

I think I lie to myself the most (I should probably stop doing that) And I keep wondering why it always rains on me (is it like in that Travis song because I lied when I was seventeen?) And sometimes I wonder if we’re all lying to ourselves To get through the day (saying it’ll be okay tomorrow or the next day or the next until the day we die) But I was talking about lying to myself And my favourite lies are the ones that keep me moving through a life I usually can(t) be bothered living (lies like love and other beautifully deranged things) And I tell myself the best is yet to come (but it probably never will) And I hope for something more than faded glimmers Of pointless hope (and I keep telling myself I’m optimistic) like breadcrumbs In a forest that will only lead to despair (but isn’t that where we all end up somehow?) Trying to untangle a thread hoping To find the knot that’s tying up The wrong loose ends (and there oh-so-many of those hanging around my heart) but it’s an impossible endeavour because theSkeins of kismet (or whatever you like to call it) are a spider’s web That will trap you in a never-ending question (and when all you’re looking for is answers it’s the last place you want to be) So I'll keep lying to myself and turn the heart-break into poetry no one asked for (and hope they'll take it anyway) and I'll keep making those lies as pretty as the boys I (shouldn’t) fall in love with.