You can cut to the bone with,
All my angry obsessions, all
These chalky happy pills, and
All their consequences, am i
Done with sleeping? am i done
With waking up? am i through
With thinking? that i've
Taken to much into my
Apologies, and lucid dreams,
And fucked up thinking

I bleed inside, i fear my
Life, i wake and i hide, i
Choke till it soaks into all
These anxious fits, and
Agoraphobic dreams of
Happiness

You can cut to the fucking
Point, of how i'm so
Frustrated, as you strip away
This fear, and you sand and
Paint it, am i done with
Drinking? am i done with
Waking up? am i tired of
Thinking? that i've taken to
Much into all i want to be,
The ghost of me is far from
Leaving

I feel claustrophobic
Thinking, that my skin is a
Prison in itself, you want to
Share my cell?