The mortal coil has distorted

It’s tangled its shape into a noose

Where my head will hang from it

Flashbacks of memories I’d rather were aborted

Surf to the top of my mind

Because I’m not the kind of person to remember the good times

They die and drift away just like my will to survive

You say my threats are empty

Well throw your fingers in the shape of a gun

Shoot it

I’ll see a hole through your forehead

I’ll see a hole in your methods

Zero serotonin levels

Chemical imbalance

Over-indulgence

I need a helping hand

Will you lend it

The mortal coil has distorted

It’s tangled its shape into a noose

Where my head will hang from it

Flashbacks of memories I’d rather were aborted

Surf to the top of my mind

Because I’m not the kind of person to remember the good times

They die and drift away just like my will to survive

Chemical imbalances in your body

Have deprived you of the positive feelings you once had

Your overindulgence has weighed on your mind holding you down

At the bottom of this pit

There is no one to help you

Except your own worst enemy

Yourself

Accept your own worst enemy

Yourself