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Texty
I make a fool of myself
Throwing wishes down an empty well
Thinking something will change
But it all just stays the same
It feels so strange
Like a late December rain
Trying to make sense of it all
Or maybe whats not there anymore
I look around for familiar sights
I see the bad, never what's right
Well there's an emptiness, emptiness... emptiness again.
This bottle only eases the pain
It feels so strange
Like a late December rain
Trying to make sense of it all
Or maybe whats not there anymore
Take a sip, take sip of that poison
You'll forget all you ever wanted
Writer(s): Preston Gunderson
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