flip through blank pages. for something that makes sense. not a worthless word so i'll tear them up. like love letters. i gave a note. to everyone i've ever known. i made a chord. and let it ring all alone. i wish there was a miracle in my fingertips. but there isn't. and i'll cry wolf, i'll cry fight. but you still won't listen. cause what everybody says makes no difference. and i'd swing for the stands. but i can't seem to hold the bat. and i'd find the perfect words. but i just can't read the map. and maybe if i could write just one thing. unmolested with poetry. or based on more than a true story. it could mean something. there are no heroes. without tragedies. and i'll never be one. cause nothing real has ever happened to me