There's a ghost outside the door,
Of your closet in the room where I thought of you.
And I've wanted more than anything,
To tell you how much you mean to me,
But there's nothing I can do . . . I want you.
I want you to notice me.
I want you to understand that I don't,
Need anyone but you.
And all these thoughts of you I've had I,
Really should have had.
I'm letting go of everything,
'Cause I'm not getting anything.
My Crudity,
I'd never let you go, though I'd,
Never let you know how I feel.
In the corner of your mind, you might find,
Scrapings of memories of you and me,
When we'd talk, and let go of something we believed.
In the corner of your mind, you might find,
Scraping of memories, where you and I would,
Talk and laugh loudly . . . And let go of something we believed.
So you could take a part of me . . . And forget.
And I can't help what you believe.
It's my fault I feel this way.
It's my fault.
It's my fault.
I'm sorry.
My Crudity,
I'd never let you go, though I'd,
Never let you know how I feel.
I've just got too much shit on my mind,
To understand what you mean.
And lately, I've been wondering,
How you'll turn out.
Will you be sick?
Will you be sick?
Please, don't be sick of me.
And all these words I've thrown away,
Well, they'll be back another time to fade away,
In my mind, in thoughts of you.
My Crudity,
I'd never let you go, though I'd,
Never let you know how I feel.
My Crudity,
I'd understand if you don't know or care,
How I feel.
It's my fault.
It's my fault.
I'm sorry.
