It kills me that I never made a single little rut,
In the plains that you can call your life where thereís still nothing to see.
Years and years of weeds and grass,
Will die with the next winter,
And if it try to plant a flower,
Youíll burn it down to cinders.
Iíll approach and youíll say ďhiĒ
Iíll say something else.
But no answer is what I get
One word was all I earned today.
We could have kept going,
Dug rivers into each otherís lives.
But they have nowhere to go,
So otherís suns will dry them up.
I donít hate you for not going on,
But for how you left me here.
Iím dirt with water you suck up.
Iím not worth the words.
It took one year for you to change.
You used to be my friend.
But now it seems the time has come,
For that friendship to end.