| God, the room won’t stop
|
| If I could just open my eyes forever
|
| I’d never have to feel this lost again
|
| But would I feel as whole
|
| As in control?
|
| Am I slowly drowning
|
| Or staying afloat
|
| With each soothing burn cascading?
|
| Maybe Hunter was right
|
| Taking all this in is overwhelming
|
| All attempts to heal are badly failing
|
| Is there something more that I am missing?
|
| Feigning what I feel…
|
| Am I really falling further?
|
| Is this the final straw?
|
| Fortune has its way of laughing
|
| On those with scars laid bare
|
| Am I really falling further?
|
| Is this the final straw?
|
| Fortune has its way of laughing
|
| On those with scars laid bare
|
| I wake up surrounded by evidence
|
| Of another night gone awry
|
| Why can’t I break this cycle of relapse and revelry?
|
| I have lost composure
|
| For what seems like the hundredth time today
|
| I don’t know why I can’t get beyond the urge to drown myself
|
| This current pulls me under
|
| Beneath the undertow
|
| As shattered memories wash out to see
|
| Floating down
|
| I fight back the tide
|
| (I will fight the tide.)
|
| And I’m as useless as an orphan’s cry
|
| From virulent sustenance
|
| The product of consequence
|
| From virulent sustenance
|
| The product of consequence
|
| From virulent sustenance
|
| The product of consequence
|
| My body forces retribution
|
| For the onslaught it endures
|
| Another night of purging myself of my weakness
|
| Pull me from the water
|
| It’s time that I finally breathe again
|
| I’m a fucking mess
|
| Fucking mess
|
| Fucking mess |