The End

Drift through my bedroom door around four taken by the day's lost hope.

Watch it shift into a foundation where I can hang my rope.

I'm still hurtin', ya I've been sore, and I'm strugglin' to cope,

So I'm still herbin', til' I soar, bitch I used to slang that dope.

Ever since you left my world, every single colour drained out.

All the empty grey makes the over-welcomed pain stain like a drought.

And any view without you, leaves residue on the truth, leaves doubt

In my youth, and any of these words that you spewed from your mouth.

Shit just gets so fucking lonely in my head, searching through the rooms

Until I hit a dead end. And who I really got as a friend?

I am he, and he will be with me from beginning to the end.

Now can you fucking comprehend? See why I weep, even though

I pretend, that shit don't really matter in the end, but when

I try to sleep between the sheets, it proves how lost I really am.

I can't withstand that in the end, I'd end up on my own.

I've started to misunderstand everything I've ever known.

You were all I needed, but like you said "we're not compatible".

And as time proceeded, turns out you're now fucking some of my bro's.

Suddenly I'm needed, but now I've turned so fucking ice cold.

Honey, believe it, my mental state has taken such a high toll.

Let the seed of love settle, then tear its fucking roots out my soul.

Make me bleed and disassemble, overbear my whole mental.

Made the message so simple, yet producing more than a ripple.

Feed me some info, like, "You mean so little", well bitch, ditto.

But still, I'm staring out my window, crying in my pillow,

Try'na find that hero, who can save my from my limbo.

Can't you see these fucking signals? I'm struggling being single.

All the stresses intermingle, leaving messes far from being simple.

Apprehensive that I've started feeling dismal.

My senses been gettin' brittle, I've got that crippled middle.

Load that pistol, grit my teeth, tremble, finish up my last scribbles,

I'll let this wishful riddle speak for my last symbols.

Take one last reminiscence of our distant past, as I dwindle,

The only requisition that I ask, before I pass,

Is that this blast takes me back to when I used to laugh,

Back when the end looked so much brighter and unsurpassed,

But then again, I should ask, in the end, do these dire trends last?

Or will time lead to a higher sense of my life's task?

Realize you're not the kind to wife, just supply some fine ass.