Mostly Nothing
James Barrett
GENRE
There’s nothing left for me to say about you
There’s nothing left for me to write but still I do
It’s all I do
I try to act like I’m composed
I’m struggling on my own
I try to act like I am bold
I’m terrified of growing old
I try to act like you care
I know you don’t
It’s been too long
What do you both talk about?
I’d love to know
I really would
Do you draw portraits of him now?
Magnificent
Makes him proud
Do you lie and say “you’re the only one I’ve ever loved,”
That was me once
So stay where you are
Amazed I’ve come this far
Though if I saw your face again
The world would know how hard I pretend to feel ok
You cannot relate
You just ran away
An architect who escapes the very home they made
But I still dream of you
I wander the world subdued
Never knowing what I’d do when it’s finally my cue
Oh baby what I would do to stop dreaming of you
My moment will come someday
For now I’m stuck in this play
Though there’s never a stage
It’s only in my brain
The only place I’ve seen you for over three hundred days
But art will never die
I’ll find you in the field with the table and light
Is it your world or mine?
You took it from me
So here’s to you
“A Series of Mostly Nothing”
There’s nothing left for me to write but still I do
It’s all I do
I try to act like I’m composed
I’m struggling on my own
I try to act like I am bold
I’m terrified of growing old
I try to act like you care
I know you don’t
It’s been too long
What do you both talk about?
I’d love to know
I really would
Do you draw portraits of him now?
Magnificent
Makes him proud
Do you lie and say “you’re the only one I’ve ever loved,”
That was me once
So stay where you are
Amazed I’ve come this far
Though if I saw your face again
The world would know how hard I pretend to feel ok
You cannot relate
You just ran away
An architect who escapes the very home they made
But I still dream of you
I wander the world subdued
Never knowing what I’d do when it’s finally my cue
Oh baby what I would do to stop dreaming of you
My moment will come someday
For now I’m stuck in this play
Though there’s never a stage
It’s only in my brain
The only place I’ve seen you for over three hundred days
But art will never die
I’ll find you in the field with the table and light
Is it your world or mine?
You took it from me
So here’s to you
“A Series of Mostly Nothing”
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