You were a giant garden, growing beauty as I, the small bug, admired all that you were and everything you became. I saw the air you breathed in and the seeds you spewed out; my spots and wings were nothing magical to you. You made life, with help from the sun, and all I did was eat everything you created. I destroyed your flowers, slowly and softly - but it took a bigger toll than I had thought it would. I thrived off the misery I caused you. You lived for life and I lived for destruction; for chaos is the only disorder that keeps us sane.

I woke up feeling morning pain
Another barroom brawl
I didn't make my bed last night
I slept out in the hall

I made it to the correct floor
I just couldn't find my keys
I can't keep living life like this
Can someone help me please?

I'm sick of empty promises
Every bottle seems to be
An enigma in a riddle
And they all keep calling me
I'm sick of empty promises
And of bottles holding dreams
My life's an Escher painting,
So, it seems

Different bars, the same result
I always wake up ******
Sunday Morning Sunshine hurts
and I'm always here alone

I am tired of the drinking
Of the searching, of the fight
But, I end up every morning
Still feeling like last night

I'm sick of empty promises
Every bottle seems to be
An enigma in a riddle
And they all keep calling me
I'm sick of empty promises
And of bottles holding dreams
My life's an Escher painting,
So, it seems

I wake up in dark back alleys
And if I make it home at all
I end up in the stairway
Sleeping, curled up in a ball

I'm not looking for redemption
Just a way to stop the sounds
Of the bottled empty promises
Before I'm in the ground

I'm sick of empty promises
Every bottle seems to be
An enigma in a riddle
And they all keep calling me
I'm sick of empty promises
And of bottles holding dreams
My life's an Escher painting,
So, it seems