Miss you - not me.

I miss you. I miss you now and I always will.

And now I understand. I will always miss you, because I never knew, and never will know, what is "to have you".
It hurts to know, to finally know. All of you, you all knew what you were doing. I know what I do, and I'm a bitch because I still do it, no matter how much it's wrong.
So, as I'm trash, as I'm a worthless person, so are you.
You make me miss you. You make me miss every little thing that I have (and I only have them because you give them to me) as well as everything I wish I had (and which I don't have because either you won't give it to me, or I don't accept the fact that I want it).
You make me want, wish, desire, aim. And the budists, oh did they knew. There relies all misery.

You won't understand, because even now that I think I see it - oh it took me so long to get here -, you don't even need to bother trying.

Now I feel like I shouldn't. I have no certainties besides my doubts, my questions.
And the cientists with their cience, they explain it logically and make me see, but they can't make it stop. And music only makes it worst when I only hear it with my heart.

I want it back, the way I had it. What I think I had, but I can't really tell when, or even if, I really had.
I want to know. I need to know. I need to be sure. I need to feel right, with no doubts, no doubt. I don't need this.

So fuck you, with all your studies. Fuck you, with all your life experience. Fuck you, with all your common sense. Fuck you, with all your judgements.
- If even I know nothing, how can you know more than me, if you're not even here?
You can't.
So, fuck you, fuck you, because you know nothing at all. Fuck you, you know nothing at all.

But they know it all, when they write, they know it all.

It gives me all I need
And helps me co-exist with the chill
You make me sick because I adore you so
I love all the dirty tricks
And twisted games you play on me

Space dementia in your eyes and
Peace will arise and tear us apart
And make us meaningless again

Mmmm, yeah
You'll make us want to die
I'd cut your name in my heart
We'll destroy this world for you
I know you want me to feel your pain

Space dementia in your eyes and
Peace will arise and tear us apart
And make us meaningless again
Ooooh... "
Muse

Bem sabia a senhora, o que eu preciso de arranjar é um problema.