Personal problems consume me,
nobody gets the fears I have.
The clock counts away the time to live,
ticking before I know the true feeling of love.
The clock is about to fall off the wall
and lose all of it's time.

When pretending is what you do to seem alive,
but your actually rotting corpse.
Wearing down to the bone.
My bones don't rest comfortably together.
They cause friction and your the only thing
keeping me from wearing away.