It's feeding on my thoughts as if they're all of me that's left
It is clinging to my throat and it is stealing all my breath
It is laughing as I struggle and it is singing as I slip
It is dancing as I fade but it does not loosen it's grip
It crawls in through my nostrils and it turns my blood to black
It builds a throne inside my heart and runs it's fingers down my back
It whispers "you are nothing" but I still cannot believe
I must have asked for it not knowing just what I would receive
I must have earned it somehow back then when I saw no consequence
I must deserve it for some wrong I did when I didn't have the sense
To know what would become of me despite my earnest pleas
"Just spare me" or "just **** me" I would beg upon my knees
But my sickness is a clever one - it knows when to stand by
It will not take me over, it waits for me to try
Then takes the power from my hands because it's starving for the light
Again it whispers, "you are nothing," and we know that it is right.