Poetic Tragedy - The Used

The cup is not half empty as pescimists say

As far as he’s sees nothings left in the cup

A whole cup full of nothing for him to induldge

Since the voice of ambition has long since been shut up A singer, a writer, he’s not dreaming now of going nowhere

He gave heed to nothing, and all that he was…

Is just a tragedy

So he voyages in circles

Succeeds getting nowhere

And submits to the substance

That first got him there

Than in violent, frustration he cries out to God or just no one

Is there a point to this madness and all that he was…

Is just a tragedy

He feels alone

His heart in his hand

He’s alone

He feels alone

I feel…

Then on that last day he breaks

And he stood tall