What am I holding on to?
If I am worthless person, what does this say about my chosen anchors?
Dragging me down, air bubbles are hope.
If I keep this grip all is lost.
Must tell them, must tell them my freedom won’t be given away anyone.
This isn’t working out and no we can’t be friends.
No we can’t be friends, friends wouldn’t do this.
No we can’t pretend scars from this will go away.
I’ve been holding onto my demise because it kept nights warm.
This way I won’t ask for anything.
Won’t be asking for balance and equality so feel free to be idle as always.
You don’t have room for me, hell you don’t even room for practical essentials.
If I keep this grip, I’m going to run to death’s arms looking for rest.
Living with you isn’t a life I want anymore.
Maybe I’ll get sleep without you.