I count down all the days of when I'll be laid into my grave.
I know I shouldn't feel this way but it's the only thing that makes me sane.
I've had a constant struggle with dissecting my idle mind.
Things don't make sense to me and I can't seem to make them right.
I can't expect all of these experiences to change with time.
For now I'll just keep saying that I am fine.
Don't you think it's a little bit reckless
to go without saying that I'm somewhat selfish.
I try to change but I'm feeling restless
trying to break down all of these useless fences.
Don't you think it's a little bit reckless
to go without saying that I'm somewhat selfish.
I can't help but feel some resentment
for all the reasons why I don't feel contentment.
Just when I feel that I'm getting close the worst begins to crawl.
Everything I say or do just seems to come out wrong.
All of my mistakes, all of my disgrace carved into my zealous face oh no.
I can't escape, I can't explain, I can't find my idle mind.
I can never really count all of the amount of times
I've looked into all of my friends eyes
And tell them the same old lie about how I'm fine.
(When I'm not fine)
Hoping each time someone would stop to
read between the lines. They never could.
No matter how much I hope they would.
Don't you think it's a little bit reckless
to go without saying that I'm somewhat selfish.
I try to change but I'm feeling restless
trying to break down all of these useless fences.
Don't you think it's a little bit reckless
to go without saying that I'm somewhat selfish.
I can't help but feel some resentment
for all the reasons why I don't feel contentment.
Just when I feel that I'm getting close the worst begins to crawl.
Everything I say or do just seems to come out wrong.
All of my mistakes, all of my disgrace carved into my zealous face oh no.
I can't escape, I can't explain, I can't find my idle mind.
Self indulgence is a fault I'd like to break.
And the product of my burden is the price I'll pay.
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