a lack of things to talk about   i called you today   i must have called you a hundred times   the sea of noise is a ringing in my    ear as my lips conceal secrets    things i could never tell, god   i can't die these little deaths   not again, as the moths eat   away the fabric of my stomach   this is just a bit to familiar   this beautiful lie,   this one fraudulent crime   and you won't answer anyway   cause i know if you ever die   i would have   a lack of things to talk about   or i'd just lie