| I’m tearing apart at the seams | 
| Still trying to mend these holes in my jeans | 
| Leaving my skin to stain as I bleed | 
| Give up, disintegrate, secede | 
| Toss and turn in this concrete bed | 
| And in the morning I’ll try again | 
| Pray for something to ease my dread | 
| End up with trembling limbs instead and this feels endless | 
| As if there’s not a solace in the world that can mend this | 
| Everything will repeat in the end it’s not a matter of 'if' it’s 'when' | 
| This has happened before it’ll happen again | 
| It comes in waves and I’m pulled below | 
| It’s not subjective, it’s clinical | 
| Drown myself in the undertow of all my imbalanced chemicals | 
| And this cycle comes full circle | 
| This cycle comes full circle again | 
| So back to the needle and the thread | 
| I’ve had enough of this blood I’ve bled | 
| I wanna breathe life in my lungs again | 
| Clear the fog that fucks my head | 
| Without a struggle there can’t be progress | 
| (Even though the weight is crushing me) | 
| Without a struggle there can’t be progress | 
| (Aim to kill, fight defeat) | 
| 'Til it comes around again | 
| It comes in waves and I’m pulled below | 
| It’s not subjective, it’s clinical | 
| Drown myself in the undertow of all my imbalanced chemicals | 
| And this cycle comes full circle | 
| This cycle comes full circle again | 
| 'Cause I’ve had days that I swore would be my last | 
| And spent months walking on this broken glass | 
| Just to tiptoe towards the thought that maybe someday I’d get back, | 
| to who I used to be | 
| To what I used to see in the mirror | 
| Instead of this misery | 
| And to rid myself of this cloud that will rain down and cause me to slip back | 
| in to my apathy, but I know eventually | 
| I’m gonna come around and maybe it won’t be easy but it will be worth it and | 
| the results will be profound | 
| Because instead of feeling cornered the corners of my mouth will start to point | 
| up | 
| Instead of being anchored down |