I Don’t Even Play Guitar in This Band

There is no providence in complaining - all of my emptiness in replacing
Now we exist in separate spaces and I've been doing what I can to face it

And I miss who I used to be
Before I started losing teeth and dying in my sleep

In the liminal space between acceptance and rhetoric
What I've been repeatedly ignoring is getting progressively abhorrent

In the liminal space between "I'm happy" and "I'm dying"
I was accepting my despondence - you were unhappy with thе silence
Now I'm regrеtting all the lost days
Think I've forgotten how to find them