My handwriting gives
me a headache to read.
My mind wanders with
memories I can't repeat.

So worried about tomorrow,
but stuck in the past,
that even a single good day
doesn't seem to last.

No one to love.
No one to hold.
No one to share secrets
and let my fears unfold.

There's crime in the streets,
there's past pain in these sheets,
there are scars a lot deeper
than me.

I sing to escape,
I take what I need for the pain,
and I wait out my days.

And just like that, I fade away.