"Anything to feel dead, to feel alive
Anything to get yourself through the night"
Has only brought you eyes more red than white
Headaches that follow all your good times
Coping's not a simple science
But I try...
I'm still alive
Every day I try to think modestly
Shave my wishlist down to the things I need:
More hours in my day
More days in my week
More words for the things
I can't bring myself to speak
Coping's not a simple science
No, it's not a simple science
The days turned into Rorscach tests
I choose to see what brings me rest
And life began to lose its taste
Digest the parts that get me through each day