running from tears with a gun

I admire every essence dissimilar to my own My identity feels like fragility in the noonday sun Freckled and insecure Running with a gun Learning how to look like I’m together Stone cold and drunk with derision Wistful and unmotivated Changing the world one noodle cup at a time Isn’t that just the worst cliché of the day Ending in that blood red sunset that Leaves my face plain No tears run down my too full cheeks Because this is not a sad song, this is just another way To create something to connect to you Its just another love song, clichéd, dull and dangerous At the end of the day Running into the wind To feel the only tears Which can be formed By a body of lies In a tomb of Solomon’s Song. Long live this dried out hunk of metal Which can't be undone