I understand the misunderstood.
The Third Eye sees all.
If you find somebody to fill my seat
I hope she wont last, I hope she wont last
And if you care for her, I hope I never see
She could of been me, if I didn’t leave
I’ve got to let you go, so hard to say it though
I’d rather find something instead
That we could laugh about, ignore the truth somehow
For just one more night in your bed
Theres a brief moment when you first wake up, where you have no memories. A blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness.
You just like the idea of me. You like the person I present myself under circumstances that I can control.
I choose what I say and how I say things. It’s like being attracted to a fictional character in a book. They are scripted and made up. If you think about it, through writings, we all script and make ourselves up. I don’t share the person I become when I am upset. I don’t show you how I look like when I sleep. I don’t tell you about all the times I’ve made someone cry. All the guilty things I’ve done and the bad thoughts I’ve had.