Every day, I'm bumped aside by the person inside
Under my breath, I hide the words; "I'm sorry."
I gave up at the prologue, but I refuse to let our novella go.
I left my story with you on the table just before the sunrise.
The profits didn't show and all the pages were let go.
Everyday after I lived the same shit in a different story.
Didn't think anyone would love me past chapter one.
My soul was in print, life was the class, and I the clown.
From the inside of the machine, I couldn't share the copies.
I've tirelessly lived through every sentence, if only, to see you near the end.
I don't even know why, but there's a lot of power behind "You" and "I."
Every hour, I pass my busy shelf and think against myself.
"Never give up." "Couldn't hurt to try." "It just takes awhile for us to know why."
I feel I should quit trying, but I refuse to let our novella go.
That afternoon, you pieced together all the pages,
but could you read beyond the smudged ink stains?
Did you see the same shit in a different story?
From barren bedrooms to packed cramped cars,
you remembered the way our laughter would white out scars.
I feel my memories out here falling with the leaves around me.
Guess this is goodbye and hello to loving myself.
I don't have a good reason to think this, but I never really deserved love.
Every minute, I contemplate my fragility.
Weak people have hearts, but how can anyone be brave without one?
In the end, I accept my cowardice, but I refuse to let our novella go.
I don't know what I should do or what I want from you.
Just want to look in the mirror and smile again.
I'm scared of how things will be and the thought of everything depending on me,
so I bypassed the same shit and changed the story.
I don't have a second to waste on the person inside.
Too tired to tell him; "I'm sorry."
Too wimpy to answer his calls, but somehow,
I have exactly what it takes to keep our novella going.