To find in yourself something lost, hidden
Then realizing all it’s potential, forbidden
Setting it down and walking away
You’ll never get a second chance...

I cry in barren deserts, the tears stolen from me.
My eyes are dry, like the sand, washed away by the sea.
My hands are scarred and calloused; my shirt is torn away.
My feet are burnt and blistered by the dawn of a new day.

The time that's left is dwindling; I feel I have it all.
I count down the minutes 'till the time when you next call.
My soul is crushed and withered; your name is on my lips.
You'll be the one who saves me from this deathly abyss.

Inside me, a cavity where my heart likes to hide.
It's turned to stone, cold and hard, by despair, hate, and pride.
The world around me is blurred, a mirage to my eyes.
The sun's scorching my peeled skin.  My head is filled with lies.

The time that's left is dwindling; I feel I have it all.
I count down the minutes 'till the time when you next call.
My soul is crushed and withered; your name is on my lips.
You'll be the one who saves me from this deathly abyss.

I cry out in this lonely world, "Help me survive the night!"
You responded with your name, my eyes bathed in your light.
Too bad I'm trapped in my mind, slowly, surely dying.
I pull myself towards the shore; I've given up on trying.
This desert that I have crossed, surrounded by the sea,
was my final obstacle in my journey to be free.
I watch my body float away from me, washed away from the shore.
And strangely, it begins to rain; I dance in the downpour.

I have beaten this battle; I'm so close to getting out.
The rain has quenched the desert from the never-ending drought.
But something is wrong; something's different in my mind.
Who cares anymore?  I'm leaving this state behind.
I leave my earthly being as my mind becomes a blank slate.
I watch as my family cries; who knew that this would be my fate?
They wanted to end my suffering; they ended my pain.
But I was close to being saved; they took my life in vain.

How do you feel being trapped inside that beautiful mind of yours?
Your eyes like to wander, your hands like to write, about a fantasy world.
This world is not real, yet you claim it to be
a vision of your reality.
A barren void, a terrible hole,
a cavity inside your soul.

Why don't you tell someone of
your feelings called hate, opposite of love?
The time we have is limited, your mind quickly grows older.
So why don't you take a long rest on someone else's shoulder?

How can anyone know the pain that you feel?
No one can help you; you're behind the wheel.
You daydream in this world waiting just for you.
Why won't you except their offers?  Why?  They know what you've been through.
I promise things will be alright as you scream and try to write.
Please, I beg of you, tell anyone of your hate.
But by the time you finally speak, it will be too late.
You disregard all your worth and things others value.
You simply ignore me when I say, "I need you and love you."

Why don't you tell someone of
your feelings called hate, opposite of love?
The time we have is limited, your mind quickly grows older.
So why don't you take a long rest on someone else's shoulder?

I'm here for you; that gut feeling is me.
I'm just your conscience, which I'll always be.
But when you think so hard you shrink, try not to hurt yourself in any way.
This is where the devil hides, planting the smallest seeds inside
your mind, as it slips into confusion,
a deeply sorrowful state called depression.
You think you're delusional,
but that fades and leads to a confession.

Yet sadly, now, things have gotten worse.
All of it feels as if somehow you're cursed.
You want to run away from it all,
but you simply can't resist the devil's call.
You plan your escape from reality,
and plan your trip across the infinite sea.
Your fantasy world is where you'll go, ignoring what others say and believe.
Hear me and my reason!  Stop listening to him!  Do not be deceived!
It's as though you're deaf to my words; taking a deep breath in, you sigh.
Hiding, listening to the devil, I yell for you to stop, but you pull the trigger and. . . . . .