| It only does this because I let it
|
| And it only takes control because I feed it
|
| And after giving in for the hundredth time today, I feel as if I need it
|
| I know it’s just thoughts running through my head
|
| But it feels so real
|
| It feels like you and me
|
| It’s like a helpless disease of the mind
|
| That deteriorates and eats at my thoughts
|
| Poisoning every thought and image
|
| And making them one of it’s own
|
| Everytime I try to overcome, I succumb
|
| Giving in to the thoughts holding me captive
|
| The thoughts that define me in all that I am
|
| It feels surreal wondering if I’d be better off dead. |
| But is it real?
|
| Is what should be asked instead
|
| It’s been 15 years that I’ve held on to this question
|
| 15 years that it’s consumed me with it’s haunted remark
|
| All along feels that I’ve been shooting blanks in the dark
|
| Seeking answers to questions I can’t even comprehend
|
| And somedays… somedays!
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| I wonder if this is it
|
| If this is all I’ll ever amount to
|
| If this is all that I’m supposed to be
|
| (Sang beneath spoken word)
|
| And at a quarter past three
|
| I sold my life of simplicity
|
| For something more
|
| And maybe you can’t see it
|
| It’s a dark feeling that eats away at all
|
| Happiness from avoiding all of your fears
|
| A feeling that tears down all those walls
|
| That you’ve been building up over the years
|
| Those walls that made you feel safe in your head
|
| As if nothing could possibly go wrong
|
| But you always knew that they would fall
|
| All along
|
| Everytime I try to make this right
|
| It loops itself again and in the end I’m the one to blame
|
| Like having a conscience, but yet feeling no shame
|
| It’s a delusional hold on the mind
|
| That recreates those past horrors that you’ve been running from
|
| Once lost, but not forgotten
|
| It takes years of trial and error
|
| And even then you may not reach a definite end
|
| It’s a disease that changes how you think
|
| Changes what you think is rash and how you react and makes you seem different
|
| when you try to interact
|
| And makes it impossible to ever go back to the expression of normal
|
| Or how it used to be
|
| Because how it used to be… has gotten so far… away from me
|
| (Sang beneath spoken word)
|
| And at a quarter past three
|
| I sold my life of simplicity
|
| For something more
|
| And maybe you can’t see it
|
| But the fact that you left me
|
| Has made me free
|
| Free to make this choice
|
| To end this dull and lifeless play
|
| That I call purpose
|
| Just like those memories of you and me
|
| I swear we could lay there for hours
|
| And do nothing but talk about the past
|
| And life to come
|
| Not once filled with a dull moment
|
| And now I just want to know what’s running through that head of yours
|
| Maybe I can overthink my way in and know exactly how you feel
|
| Or if you thought for even one second that what we had was real
|
| I know I’ve never been the same since that time
|
| It’s like this contagion of the mind
|
| Fears you or I finally can ignore it
|
| No matter the reasoning, I just want to have control it
|
| But honestly, I don’t know if I can
|
| It’s like I’ve let the devil wrap himself around me
|
| I’ve been filled with more fear going down
|
| Than I ever have in the surface
|
| I try not to be scared or nervous
|
| But I think I’ve just come to terms with my purpose |