In the end, they had to break into his room
He was dead in his chair, and quite alone
Self-exiled from his family for years
Alone in a shell, silent, and alone

The accidentals of life were cast away:
A coffee ***, a coat over a door
His schedule for the methadone clinic
A note to meet with his parole officer

But the pathology tox screen was clean -
Better than most of us, he went down fighting

born in a storm,
i was dying.
perhaps that's why my tears rain down-
no, that's just crying.

"but mom, i'm always trying!"
my soul's fighting for you,
so i can keep living life,
although i'm lying.

and all though no one's buying:
i promise,
i'm always trying.

my soul's fighting for you,
but i'm still dying.