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sad song number seven

| decarmine |
nothing to do today no one to talk to no one to share a smile nothing but these same two hands and same six strings just like every night, and i'm not happy but i feel powerless how did this come to this? broken dreams and broken guitar strings singing the same old songs about the same old girls and the same old fucked-up world it's been so hard lately to make myself do anything

two potatoes in an empty fridge and a jar of old spaghetti sauce remind myself i could be so much worse off but even nothing has got to feel better than this sad song number seven broken dream number ninety nine i've said it before this is the last time nothing but a couple old cassette tapes, some alcohol and an overflowed ashtray i've said it before this is the last time

maybe another cigarette will bring an answer this time. maybe something else will finally come to help me keep from losing my mind. things are gonna get better they'll get better soon i bet things are gonna get better but they haven't yet

so now here i sit, kicking screaming contemplating thoughts of leaving no answers today