Futility

Sitting here is pointless,
a head full of nothing.
What do I have to say?

Still, I can try
to fake this with feeling.
An empty, dead heart won't stand in my way.

Chorus:
And you can sit and wonder.
Sometimes I do myself.
It's like building a snowman in the summer.
He always melts.
And maybe I can brighten tomorrow, if I try...
Or maybe just let it pass me by.
Again.

I got me some smoke,
and like my ambition,
it burns away to ashes, and leaves me with dust.

And you'll say that it's too much,
and I'll swear I'll slow down,
but I'll cave again when I crave again.  It's me I can't trust.

Chorus 2x