I can feel my bones better
And I know what you're thinking, Tommy,

Why would I try to stay relevant?
The question is
When did I ever become basic

Because it's a hard life to live
Wanting someone to come out
Of the woodwork to show me they care

When it's easier to pop open
Cold ones to point a gun finger
To my head and say,
"Here I am"

And I am broken,
Like cool ranch chips under your feet
I am dying to be gone

I want to matter to someone

Be fine china in their arms,
Delicate and a daydream
To be a wonderland for their mind
And a restlessness in their heart

But I'll keep counting cans
While throwing up,
It was never easy destroying everything
Because I wasn't good enough

Count the spaces in between,
It's simple as one, two, three
I hate everything about me
And it's clear to see

But
Here
I
Am