“Anything to feel dead, to feel alive

Anything to get yourself through the night”

Has only brought you eyes more red than white

Headaches that follow all your good times

Coping’s not a simple science

But I try...

I’m still alive

Every day I try to think modestly

Shave my wishlist down to the things I need:

More hours in my day

More days in my week

More words for the things

I can’t bring myself to speak

Coping’s not a simple science

No, it’s not a simple science

The days turned into Rorscach tests

I choose to see what brings me rest

And life began to lose its taste

Digest the parts that get me through each day