You find yourself happy looking at your toes...You say I don't
need a girlfriend cuz it comes with tears and pain. A Jewish
saying says that God asks you when you die: "Do you believe I
created the world for you?" ...If you say yes then you
are said to have loved life...or maybe you think you are Jesus...
I had those days, with a smile so radiant on my face with
lyrics of D12 in my mind...Walking down the street with the hopes
of starting a fight...ready to die at the drop of the hat...but
never doing anything...Maybe to join the fight club would be to...
live...But you never act...when you ask a girl and she says she
has a boyfriend when in your heart you have doubts on the fact...
You end up doubting yourself...you end up thinking it will never
happen for you...And then you make pacts with God...We'll be friends
forever, and he never is there like the countless others to break
that pact to your face...Or worse on the phone...And your heart is
like Humpty Dumpty...but there is no king's men for they helped break
you in the first place...So like a manager in a double-header you say:
"maybe we'll win the next one"...So you play for the after-life...
You never say anything when people stab you in the back...you smile
in the belief that they will get theirs' in the end...You stop being
yourself...your mind is already in the clouds...You give up on the
life you have...you think only about your reward in heaven...never
offending, never risking...but your heart is heavy, unhappy...And
when you die...You are in bliss that you will have all the glory of
heaven...And you meet God and he smiles and asks "Do you believe
I created the world for you?"...And with tears in your eyes you
will probably say..."Yes"...Then he will say "why did you give up on
Me?" and you will tell him of how ill will, wrath and hopelessness
seeped into your heart and consumed you...Hopefully he forgives you
because I've been told he doesn't like those things...
Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice
in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face
that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?