It′s getting hard to write about the past
When I have the answers for things I didn't ask
It′s hard to wake up with nothing on my mindSpending countless weekends wasting all my time
And it all comes crashing down everytime
You cannot convince me that I'm not really dead
When everyday feels the same nine times out of ten
I miss the warmth of living but I can't stand the heat
An embrace so familiar yet still so bittersweet
