And here we are, so broken
Neither dead or alive
To my surprise
I’m barely breathing
Cut and bruised to hell
How could you tell
That I’m not taking shit
From the people out back. I’ve had enough with playing along
with all these songs about the summer. They’re gnawing on my back. I’m being consumed for their comfort. How can I find the lines that guide me back to that place called “home?” I suppose it’s better late than never to change.
It’s about damn time that I cared for myself
It’s been a long ride since winter
Catching colds and sweating dry
Why am I still cold inside?
It’s about 78 degrees with a little bit of a breeze
Running around the topics that confuse me
They get to me too easily and I say,
“Hello, world. Can you find the time to help a girl out in these trying moments?” They say, “Hell no, girl. You gotta figure it out and stop freaking out every time you feel let down.”
But how do they expect me to live with myself?
Knowing that I fucked up along the way. The price is here to pay.
And now I hear them all teasing me because I can’t get by
Why can’t I get by? I can’t write this pain away.