Consumed by my thoughts, berated by life
Friend with the gun, and acquaintance with knife
Blessed art though, so why does it hurt
Made from the ground and I still feel like dirt
If it's so lovely, then where is the love
If I find peace will I then find my dove
Where was I hiding? Oh where did you, too
I'm always here, I'm afraid that it's you
Can't find the feeling, nor will it away
Can't stop from reeling when you said you'd stay
Couldn't help thinking it might have been then
Yet here I stand quite alone still, again
Maybe my tremors can shake you from sleep
Only a dream since you dreamed far too deep
Maybe I wasn't the one I had thought
I'm just the ghost which emotions had brought
Tuning the dial, the frequencies thinning
If I were god would I still keep on sinning?
Thought it was nothing, it's actually me
Once I was blinded, and still, I can't see