You could fight, you could bleed, you could throw yourself on the cogs of the machine.
You could work yourself to exhaustion and wear the soles off of your shoes.
You could work, you could march, you could pour out the contents of your bleeding heart.
Or
You
Could
Just
Not.
No one is keeping score, no one even knows, no one is holding the fire to your toes.
There is no reward worth having and no punishment in store.
You
Could
Just
Not.
There's so much that you're missing, so many things you've lost
Your time, your cash, your energy, all offerings to the cause
You'll never get it back, and these battles never end
So
You
Could
Just
Not.
Your family is waiting, your friends you disavowed
The games, the parties, the playground, the worlds you used to know
There's still a space there for you, if you wouldn't yell so loud
You
Could
Just
Not.
May I set this to music?
Remix, reuse, bend, fold, mutilate and staple to your hearts content. Credit neither required nor wanted.
I like the idea of a secret songwriter. :lulz:
That's a draw all by itself.
These Problematic White Ladies are fucking killing me, you guys. You don't even know.
Quote from: Q. G. Pennyworth on June 28, 2018, 07:40:05 PM
These Problematic White Ladies are fucking killing me, you guys. You don't even know.
This makes a better song title. :D *nods,
Quote from: Capeditiea on June 28, 2018, 09:21:10 PM
Quote from: Q. G. Pennyworth on June 28, 2018, 07:40:05 PM
These Problematic White Ladies are fucking killing me, you guys. You don't even know.
This makes a better song title. :D *nods,
It has a Tom Petty feel to it.