the ciy has sex, with itself i suppose.

Well I've cried, and you'd think I'd be better for it
but the sadness just sleeps and it stays in my spine
for the rest of my life.

And I've learned and you'd think I'd be something more now
but it just goes to show it is not what you know
it is what you were thinking at the time.

This feeling's familiar, I've been here before.
In a kitchen this quiet I waited for a sign or
just something that might reassure me of
anything close to meaning or motion (with a reason to move).

I need something I want to be close to.
And I scream, but I still don't know why I do it,
because the sound never stays it just swells and decays,
so what is the point?
Why try to fight what is now so certain?
The truth is all that I am is a passing event that will be forgotten.