In your quest to find yourself
Sympathy for others may confuse you
You may observe a valiant effort
But be wary, people use you

In your quest to find yourself
Listen out and understand
That not everyone who opens up
Comes specifically to lend a hand

With your quest to find yourself
It doesn't mean you love them less
When you turn the efforts inwardly
That's where you use your energy best

With every sip of your beer, I taste
the familiarity that's here, and I'll waste
the dream for the fear,  it's my waist
that had been held dear, but now we're spaced
out to where you seem clear,  have we faced
the fact that you don't bring me cheer, I've chased
the ideas that you revere, but you've phased
out to your own hemisphere, I'm displaced
even when I find you near.

No. I'm not in love no more.
"Got another picture, man?" How big
is the ego? "Yeah, what's my score?"
I hate myself and what I beg for,
and I absolutely can't love no more.
"Shoot me the address." "I'll stay
up late." Why is sex just another chore? Can I
breathe? "I'm here get the door."
All that used to glitter, bores.
"Yeah, you can touch, take, adore
me." Who is this person?
My eyes are sore.
If I stopped enjoying it, am I still a
whore?
No. No, I can't love anymore.
Not like the first time. The first time,
I remember everything that you wore. Nothing
like God on a dorm room floor.
But that was long ago, it was all way before.
Before I tasted all the wine in the store.
Love is a strange agreement, with sex at its core.
I really just can't love anymore.