Well, I guess

I still have my conscious

Left inside my head

It keeps me awake

And all these songs that make me cry

I still try to sing them alone at night

But I hate who I’ve become

All these knots are left undone

I found my home

Deep inside your soul

It was the blackest form

At least it keeps me warm

And all these songs that I still write

I try to give them

Some sort of life

But I hate who I’ve become

All these knots are left undone

I’m so bored inside my head

I’m sleeping