There’s a sickness stirring inside of me, it began from a lack of uncertainty.

Hidden hands, refusing to ever even take a stand,
there’s a thought process that lingers in demand.

I’m worthless to you, like holding dollar bills out to the “We’re Closed” store sign,
it’s cliche, I know, but it’s not your fault... but mine.

I’m a burning star, far fading and even further from glory,
Let’s begin, start over and rewind this same old story.

There’s an aliment setting in, the kind that comes from a borrowed curse,
Yet somehow this feeling that’s eating my insides and taking over feels worse.

Our backs rested against the solid ground, spilling secrets, so profound,
my ears begging to hear your sound, I’m enthralled by even your footsteps as they abound.

There’s faith, there, at the bottom of this jump,
but there’s fear here at the top that I’m afraid will triumph.

A passion for pain because I just do this to myself,
because you’d be true to me, and I to you and no one else.

Pull the trigger, take the shot ****** your knife into the dark,
we drowned in gasoline, failed to light unable to forget that spark.