Boring Boring Boring (But Say It Again?)

There's no hope left. There's scars and tragedy with a basic format and plan. Still waiting, but the casket is open and looking to reside is a friend of mine... he used to hear me out. Oh but now he's worn, torn from abuse and the truth is, I'm just as elusive. It's not the snake it's the mistake I make in hoping I could do this all over again. It's the sin that still brings me to the table, as I label myself fond. The cake is how I'll wait till I'm clean just to bathe in the obscene, talent wasted in shameless insistence.