Scratch

I woke up in another day
a dull down out heard not a way
of many things I've got to say
there're little games I'd like to play.
But play you will with words to death-
like smell the lies under your breath,
and claim them true until you die.
I'd be not one to wonder why.

It's hard to lose and tough to find
the memories that control your mind
you fabricate to hit rewind
then claim it as some sort of sign and
Play you will the tape to death.
Scrape it 'til there's nothing left,
to ration out your small supply.
I'd be not one to wonder why.