the ghost of my past
making passes
trying to keep me up all night
when she taunted me,
all of the last
when I spent with a different
but the spirit still came
in my veins

and its a pedal pushing day
beautiful dependent;
the boy who doesn't sleep
doesn't need an american dream

and I'm so cold
from whatever i've done
i've surely attoned
in sufferings,
offerings
prayers
fuckings
beatings
screamings
the night's never over,
and I wish it would end
not inside, beside
behind her;
this is just a reminder
I'm not really dead.