I got so worked up that when you stayed your touch,
I said I see I said to myself- what's the rush? We will stay in touch.
Like a trigger finger poised, not alive until there's noise.
I slowly suffocate this trend by playing with my toys,
Bringing back the boys. Feeling so annoyed,
By everything, everyone, and all the noise.
How could you tell? I've got that secret swell filling in my chest,
And at my best I'm not myself, but still no one else.
Holding back the boy, taking away his toys,
Back turned and playing coy, I don't feel sorry for the one,
That's still looking for the door, won't feed you anymore.
If you want my blood so bad, look me in the eye and ask for more.
I'm still so worked up because I've had enough,
Of twisting in my chest the things I've kept all to myself.
Blamed on someone else. I've got a way to tell,
A smile from a lie and bone from shell.