| Fear can drive stick
|
| And it’s taking me down this road
|
| A road down which
|
| I swore I’d never go And here I sit
|
| Thinking of God knows what
|
| Afraid to admit
|
| I might self-destruct
|
| So lock the windows
|
| And bolt the door
|
| Cuz I’ve got enough problems
|
| Without creating more
|
| I feel like I was born
|
| To devastation and reform
|
| Destroying everything I loved
|
| And the worst part is I pull my heart out, reconstruct
|
| And in the end it’s nothing but
|
| The shell of what I had when I first started
|
| Usually I’ll cause my own first hit
|
| It seems to me to be slightly masochistic
|
| But there’d be no story
|
| Without all this descension
|
| So I inflict the conflict
|
| With the utmost of contemption
|
| So lock the windows
|
| And bolt the door
|
| Cuz I’ve got enough problems
|
| Without creating more
|
| I feel like I was born
|
| To devastation and reform
|
| Destroying everything I loved
|
| And the worst part is I pull my heart out, reconstruct
|
| And in the end it’s nothing but
|
| The shell of what I had when I first started
|
| Thank you God
|
| For giving me the insight
|
| So I might make
|
| These wrongs right
|
| If and when
|
| There ever is a next time
|
| Cuz failure is a blessing in disguise
|
| Pull my heart out, reconstruct
|
| And in the end it’s nothing but
|
| The shell of what I had when I first started
|
| The shell of what I had when I first started
|
| I feel like I was born
|
| To devastation and reform
|
| Destroying everything I loved
|
| And the worst part is I pull my heart out, reconstruct
|
| And in the end it’s nothing but
|
| The shell of what I had when I first started
|
| (When I first started)
|
| (The shell of what I had when I first started) |