Where do you find the time to take that ever longing breath? To exhale and breathe out that stale fucking aftertaste of excitment? Talking to you has become alot like eating glass. Even if it felt good going down believe me baby you're no good for me. I've been playing these songs they play on repeat all day long. A bottle of whiskey and a pack of matches has a brighter future for me. At least it gives me options and objects to help me stop this. Just take a breath and a giant fucking step. We're fighting to get our foot inside the door. I'm dying to call this place a home and your skin is the only place i've known. I dont blame you for suffocating it gets hard to breathe when the walls close in. No they never fall it's just all an illusion. A faucet of your imagination. Baby you're creating this. Your list of friends is burning and you havnt made two copies. The only thing you'll be missing is the count of friends you had going you'll throw the ashes away. You always end up throwing the ashes away but you'll save the hair you cut when you were ten because the 15 inches of it were something you never thought you would ever get back.