More often than not, I tend to end before I begin.
Endings are easy.
Once you read the last page of the book, getting there tends to become a lot less interesting.
And so I don't try.

I can still see the bigger picture, it's hanging on my refrigerator.
But the frame's been all worn through
And I just don’t have the same camera lens I used to.

They say happiness is a choice but they also say depression is an illness.
So I guess I’m too sick to choose and that choice is reserved for a happier few.
The kind with bumper stickers and ****.

See, I really am tired of living in fear, but I can’t seem to find anywhere else and I’m told the housing market isn’t doing too well.

And anyway, melancholy is an interesting landlord. Every time I try to move, it lowers the rent down and offers me a complementary glass of the easy way out.

Well maybe one day I’ll finally lay my head down and give my beer-stained soul a chance to sober up
It’s been awhile since its glass was empty,
Instead it’s either always half-full, or half-empty, depending on which day of the week it is.

But I’m no stranger to the good fight,
I’ve just been known to walk the line and cop a feel of the darker side from time to time.
And even though I’ve kicked the habit out of sight
You can still see the scars if the light hits them right.