I’ll make you my fuckin’ dog.
What have I become, my sweetest friend?
Everyone I know goes away, in the end.
And you could have it all, my empire of dirt.
I will let you down; I will make you hurt.
If I could start again, a million miles away,
I would keep myself; I would find a way.
It makes me so mad when you tell me you love me, and I tell you that I love you, then you go on and on about how you hate love, about how you shouldn’t love, about how horrible everything is, about how you can’t find someone to love.
Fuck, I’m right here, and I haven’t fuckin’ left once.
Did You Know?
Did you know I’ve written songs for you?
Did you know I’ve mixed together songs for you?
Did you know I’ve shown friends entire songs I’ve made for you?
Did you know I always think of you?
Did you know I tell my friends about you?
Did you know I always look at pictures of you?
Did you know I can’t get you off my mind?
Did you know that you have a huge influence on my life?
Did you know that you mean the world to me?
Of course you fuckin’ didn’t, you fuckin’ bitch.
You pop in and pop out of my life whenever you want, and just leave me to sit here like a pathetic slob.
Music, internet, television, the nightlife, and masturbation run my life.
Why?
You.
I’m not telling you to get out of my life or stay out of my life, so sit down and shut up, and just listen to me for a moment.
I want you in my life more, but instead you choose everyone else on the face of the planet over me, only getting a hold of me from time to time.
Fuck.
Question: Did you know any of that?
Answer: No, you fuckin’ didn’t.
What the fuck am I to you?
I sit here, waiting, all day everyday…
Welcome to fuck you February; the month I want everyone to give a big fuck you to anyone who does you wrong.
To those women who decide to leave someone for another, without a solid reason; those who break someone else’s heart, then talk about how “miserable” they are when they’ve got someone to take their hand, I’ve got two words for you…
Fuck you.
Seems like every day is a good day for Silverstein, lately.
I miss you, Jack.
I miss those old days.
I’m nothing but a nightmare.
You just don’t understand.
What’s the point in even trying?
