When the Song Is Over

I wanted to tell you that I'm
Not capable of writing songs about you
Words escape their meaning and I can't seem
To get a sentence through

Coming to terms with the fact that I
Could never pretend to be this for very long
I wonder if I've had the words inside my head
Or where they've gone

Gotta resort to the back hand, gotta resort to the bottle
An old source of inspiration
I don't know if I can outlast this cold
I don't know if I have the patience

I'm on the edge of something but I don't know what it is
Or what I have to offer
But if the songs never come, will you hold my hand
When the dream is over



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