Heal me. Break this pattern. This never-ending stream of hopelessness.
Just as soon as I start to stand I am pulled back down to a crawl.
I almost feel nothing at all. All the time I just feel so small.
I can't accomplish anything when it all seems so pointless
and the end makes the means not worth it at all.
Conscious saturation, selfish allegation, moving inside
and breaking through the veins in the mold.
As I walk without aim down the streets of anywhere
I see in shallow puddles an atrophied soul and a vacant stare.
Some day it'll find you.
No one gets away from this so easily.
Do you have any heart? Do you have a conscience?
They were so powerless and fragile ...
they didn't have to go but your cowardice
and senseless lusts took hold and brought you to hurt.
So few of us left to see them as they're put into the earth.
You took them all and I'm left to push on.
Does everyone truly die alone?
I hope you die alone.
The next time you see my face it won't be recognizable.
The next time you hear my voice you won't even know it's there.
And when you reach out to touch my face I hope the cold bites at your skin.
And as you cringe and stuff it down, you'll know just what went wrong.
Kill me. Break this pattern.
This never-ending stream of heartlessness.
Just as soon as I start to stand I am pulled back down to a crawl.
I really feel nothing at all. All the time I just feel so small.
