Waste

Forgotten nights is where I keep my peace.
Sedated memories that start to leak and roll right down my cheek.
Look at my reflection through the looking glass
to avoid any resurrection.

Should I stay? And limp away from all the decisions being made today.
If I die, would you cry and want to turn to me and say
"If you were here, I could be myself again without the pain
of being real and forced to feel all of the times I waste again."

I know you and I know that you don't want me to know
what you need to make every seed in your water color garden grow.
All the things you say today, they don't mean nothing if you're walking away.
You think it's real cool, to take a piece of me and hold it to the stars 'till light shines through.

Should I stay? And limp away from all the decisions being made today.
If I die, would you cry and want to turn to me and say
"If you were here, I could be myself again without the pain
of being real and forced to feel all of the times I waste again."

If I die, was it a waste for you?
Would you cry?
Is it a waste for me to love you now?