Such a shallow feeling.
Are you even mine?
I use my life to search for things I'm certain I can't find.
If the sky became a ceiling
And the clocks ran out of time,
Maybe then I could accept the limitations of my mind.


There must be something more.
It's fixation and obsession.
Every word I hear is just a lesson or a blessing.
I am a psychedelic *****,
Selling myself to depression.
And if you ever went up for sale,
It would steal you in a second.