Put the gun down

I just want to talk

I can't hear you

you're breaking up

I can't help being static

a rise in the voice marks the descent

as the atmosphere thickens, it quickens the coming apart

a shooting star

shooting down in the darkend half

sometimes the hinges aren't strong enough

splinters splitting us, embedded in the floor

some nights don't pass quick enough

nor the walls thick enough for you, or me, or next door

I can't help being static

so the wounds aer dressed and each given a name

dated and placed

the records remain

both tired of being the cause of this happening

I'm moving out onto the edge

just out of tocuh

just about out of everything

careless if I slip, careful of wher you stand

you say I couldn't care less

I've alwasys been sure of what should not have been said

I've never had to say I love you to death,

because we'd both have to dive on that gun and jokingly say . . .

that it just might have to be that way

you really don't take enough notice of what I'm telling you

you could act as though you give a fuck

I'm sick of disappointing you

you refuse to see me as anything more than what you think I've been

that's not what I was thinking at all.