I am my own worst enemy.
hold these calloused hands, guide me.
take me three steps forward so i can turn back
tell me you love me so can admit that i have nothing to confess
Massage these sore shoulders so i can return to my shell.
Pick up the phone, call the doctor. But I've already been diagnosed.
Im dying inside from self inflicted trauma.
I cant be saved, I dont wanna be saved.
An old man asked quite rhetorically:
Do you want your name in the stars or on a tombstone?

Why cant i have both?