You make me feel like shit.

Love isn't for the faint of heart.
Start Training, this game is hard and arduous.
You're gonna play in the dark like when it rains in the park.
You're hardly conscious of the stains and scars, enabling your partly clouded logic.
To pay to impart bliss with arrangements of chocolates.
Now, you're working yourself out the same as when you strain with a nautilus.
And you're willing to embrace pain facing sustained negative consequence.
If nothing you say when in love is embedded with common sense.
Then, do you really regret when you've shredded your promises?
Now, I've tested the waters, kid. Sipped it,rippled the pond a bit.
Visits have been abolished, and this shit is killing my confidence.
Is this filling your conscience when distance is an accomplishment?
If you miss chicks when they're around, the phrase "Let's quit" isn't an option.
You best fix whatever is wrong and just move on and get on with it.
You'll catch bigger fish in the sea if you manage not to drown in it.
It's sad, but proud or not, most your standards go down a notch.
When loneliness drinks at the bar you set too high.
It isn't really your time is it? I just found your watch.
And I can't die without trying. My hands tied in knots.
Knowing that I'll never learn to brave the waves if I stand by the docks.
Love is hampered by thought, if you can handle the prospect of death.
It's as massive a shock. And To intellects, it's a fucking smack in the crotch.
It's a cancer that rots your soul, tosses demons off of the road.
Just use caution and know that love isn't anything but a loss of control.

Love will have you nervous, doing stupid shit on purpose.
Brain out of service, words slurred when you blurt shit.
Further trying to gap an un-fillable void.
Because of parents never transferring that umbilical joy.
So girls create a false world of feeling on boys.
Exploited, guys playing with her heart like her feelings are toys.
But when you have it, there's nothing like it, you get excited.
Seeking those who provide it, on phones talking to psychics.
Some fear it, spend their entire lives trying to fight it.
It's not the end of the rainbow with a treasure chest and a map,
It isn't easily learned with definitions in tact.
It can ride your train of though and demolitions your tracks.
Hitting you, leaving those slits in your back.

Love isn't the basis for action.
In a nation of addicts pacing and waiting for seconds of satisfaction.
Where the word itself is only fashioned in fits of passion.
Hand in hand with animalistic orgasmic reaction.
And the past isn't felt as a match made in hell.
But rather it's held as a latter day meld.
Of common mistakes and nice intentions.
But when false love retention is simply vice invention.
Its only right to mention the fights you get in.
Nightly visions of these Tina and Ike revisions
So what does love have to do with it?
From prude women to stool pigeons in soup kitchens.
The truth isn't as eloquent so be intelligent.
Getting caught out of your element just for the hell of it's irrelevant.
And that word will fit like a glove if you don't get right.
Now live your life for the love or stop.

One Month.

First argument, kinda.
Got over it quickly.
Starting to feel different.
You're acting weird.
But, hey, happy one month.

One eye.

She told me not to step on the cracks.
I told her not to fuss and relax.
Well, her pretty little face stopped me in my tracks.
But now she sleeps with one eye open.

I took a knife and cut out her eye.
I took it home and watched it wither and die.
She's lucky that I didn't slip her a smile.
That's the price she paid.

I slipped my hand under her skirt.
I said don't worry, it's not gonna hurt.
My reputation's kinda clouded with dirt.

I said, "Hey, girl with one eye",
Get your filthy fingers out of my life.
I said, "Hey, girl with one eye",
I'll cut your little heart out 'cause you made me cry.