It's hard waking up when you'd rather be dead

Each day I'm putting out the fires inside my head

It's hard waking up when you'd rather be dead

Each day I'm putting out the fires inside my head

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired

No longer aware of my desires

The memories cut like a knife

Sinking in, rotting out

I'm standing on the deck

Of a sinking ship

Trying to remember

Where everything went

We got the past

Packed out in bags

And slung over

Right ovеr our backs

And we drag these mеmories

Like a drifter along the road

Now I know what it's like to be

Your own worst fucking enemy (Enemy)

(Now I know)

(What it's like to be)

(Your own worst)

(Fucking enemy)

And this has happened all before (It happened all before)

And it'll happen once again (And it'll happen once again)

With each new day spent

Praying for the end