The echoes from the demons seem to never end.
And from all the existing things I wish you could always be my friend.
The present disassociates, I live in the past and hope in the future, an utopian dream.
The people that surround me swear they never meant to be so mean.
My inside child's demise was so tragic and raw.
All of that changed me into a fragile mind that lives bar through bar.
And as I write this your text lights up my phone screen, if I ever thought that I loved you, now, I'm begging you to just leave.
This family is a cold play, this friends are plastic dolls, my mind code is flawed, my lover never had the *****.
I wander through the hall of this lonely house, wishing I could blood paint the walls, wishing to find a cause.
And if I don't make sense don't you think it's all made up, it's just my non functioning head speaking after too many cups.