Most of those habits of mine never died
They were just hiding out of sight
Asleep under my bed
Or in my stomach
Or in my head
Somewhere I was scared to look
For the pills I took, I might regret
Burying the one habit that did die
Was all that was needed
To exhume the rest
And resurrect the patterns
Pressed on each page
I tried to erase
And every word I'd detest
I'm colored restless again
Against caustic clockwork
Desperate to justify what I tell myself
And decipher purpose
In complacent apathy
In deepest misery
I'll make sure I deserve this
(Make sure I deserve this)
I lay awake
With the moon again
Diluting my issues
Dissecting the nerve tissue
Of my rhetoric
This passive ideation
Is dangerous
But equally invigorating
Inviting me to peer
Behind the drapes
To find what keeps me salivating
After all the promises
Mirror-made
The cyclical infliction
The selfish disposition
Each night I stay alive
Is another instance
Of residual ambition
Laid to waste
Appraising my condition
I'll pen a lament
For the masochistic hypochondriac
Admitting addiction to anything
Reminiscent of the taste
Another night spent in vain
Annotating a grenade
I fear death
But I'm only enticing him
To haste
You can lay me to fucking waste
I fear death
But I'm only enticing him
To haste
Lay into me