Regressions

How many times do I have to try to tell you that I'm sorry for the things I've done? But when I start to try to tell you, that's when you have to tell me, "Hey, this kind of trouble's only just begun." I tell myself too many times, "Why don't you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut?" That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words that keep on falling from your mouth. Tell me why. I may be mad, I may be blind, I may be viciously unkind, but I can still read what you're thinking. And I've heard it said too many times, that'd you'd be better off besides. Why can't you see this boat is sinking? Let's go down to the water's edge and we can cast away those doubts. Some things are better left unsaid, but they still turn me inside out. This is the book I never read; these are the words I never said. This is the path I'll never tread; these are the dreams I'll dream instead. This is the joy that's seldom spread; these are the tears, the tears we shed. This is the fear, this is the dread, these are the contents of my head. And these are the years that we have spent. And this is what they represent, and this is how I feel. Do you know how I feel? Because I don't think you know how I feel. You don't know what I feel.