I became accustomed to a kind of social servitude and no one, imean no one, could accept what I had become.
Selfish, bitter, weak. Enough to make you sick. And lately, I've feeling there are bits of life I'm stealing. Get me home.At times it seens I wil not help but it's just that I savemyself from fear that blankets like mist, on a optimist whoinsists it's the simple things that crush, and I'm crying fartoo much, so much so that I'm thinking my control on life isshrinking.
There's a light on in my head and I'm thinking what I said. Allthe freedom in my brain, I'm alright now, I´m just thinking whatto say.
Sorry doesn't seem to wash when there's truths around that I havequashed and no one, I mean no one, can depress me more than Ican. So does that make me weak or should that make me sick? Butlately I've been feeling that I´m gonna give up breathing.
There's a light on in my head and I´m thinking what you said. Althe fever in my brain, I'm alright now, I can even take thepain.
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