I'm Your Worst Side. Keep Me To Yourself And Away From Everyone That Matters

Doctors poking arms as I space off in white rooms.

"You're not dead yet. That's just how you feel."

Excuses are just fireworks that never went off... and that never will again. Maybe all of this has only been the medicine talking. Or maybe it's just the only thing I have left in these fingers.

It's all the same as the world spins and I find myself chasing consciousness. I'm somewhere deep inside all of this mess. Just promise to keep chiseling away. Forget the oxygen, pump forgiveness into the darkness.