Fixing a home with prescription parts. An internalized fear that was taken to heart, Thinking “how did I get here?” As we’re forging through fields full of futile hearts, Not quite broken if they never worked from the start, Tell me, how did I get here? Tell me, why am I here? Well, living’s not so easy When you’re dying to forget. Well I’ll tell you right now, nice and loud. When you’re buried in hell, and there’s nowhere else for you to go now. Bitter ‘til the end, you can wake me when I’m dead. When you know you’re good as gone, I’ll be your dying breath. What you lost in a father you found much worse in a cancer that reeks of American Failure. How did I get here? Now your savior is here but they can’t do much, When a family’s the only thing you ever wanted. How did I get here? Tell me why the hell am I here? Turns out that dying’s not so easy When you’re living with regret. I’ll abandon this shell, It’s a cell, can’t you tell? When you’re buried in hell, and there’s nowhere else for you to go now. Bitter ‘til the end, you can wake me when I’m dead. When you know you’re good as gone, I’ll be your dying breath.
supported by 8 fans who also own “A Song For Your Futile Heart”
The verse "Can't even buy a coffee without exploiting someone" got me. It really hits hard. For the entire length of the album it felt like the end of the world.
But to be perfectly honest, it's just how life is these days. And it's fucked up. szczur
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