I've not a thing to tell you that I've not already said
my fancy for the stories, like the thought of you, is dead
When what I wasn't seeing made its way into my eyes
The pressure disappeared and carried with it every "why"
There's nothing to recover of the people that we were
And I don't need a reason to admit it anymore
Suppose I never let you make your way inside of me
Would you still wander in without a place to wipe your feet
you never want to hear whatever challenges your truth
And fortify the walls your sense of helplessness removes
But I don't need to be here anymore than I have been
Examining the layers of this unprotected skin
I'll go beyond the cycles and the sameness you have praised  
And learn to be again the kind of human I was made