A life played on taut strings, high-pitched and staccato to breathlessness, a break-necked tempo that often feigns chest pains and the vice hand we 3AM anticipate
Find a way to twist the machine head, hear the cartoon sound effect of boinging down so your strum sounds loose, slow, forgotten, truth
1... I try my best to breathe and count to ten. 2... I'm trying everything so I can feel again. 3... The shaking comes and I can't seem to stop it. 4... All of my thoughts are just telling me to commit. 5... I'm trying my best to see the beauty in life. 6... But all I can focus on is the glistening knife. 7... My thoughts become empty as I reach for my heart. 8... My head is clear and I'm no longer falling apart. 9... I'm no longer afraid of death, I welcome it with open arms. 10... Now I don't even have to worry about the silent alarms.
I wish I could t a k e o f f Leave my worries b e h i n d To somewhere we're all k i n d No break d o w n s No more "c a l m d o w n s" Somewhere f r e e Somewhere I can be... m e
Take off, calm down, somewhere free, only ups, no downs, only me.
I wake up when the morning takes its first few breaths and it guides my lungs along, it says; breathe, breathe child, it's true you're in the bottom bulb of the hourglass, but it's not the sand you're drowning in, it's your thoughts.
There is a cacophony of verbal combustion; Self esteem destruction, Religions, opinions, forced down left and right, Leaves one with such distress, That sometimes we forget to breathe.