If I'm broken, how can I function in a place where everyone is operational?
Nobody holds on to the broken, they get discarded into the streets
Painted blue and no one else has a clue how cold the bottom really is
To be down and looked down upon is so melancholy
Nothing seems more arduous than the years that lie in front of you
How will I ever overcome such great heights and terrain?
This seems so impossible standing at the base, at the foot of it all
How will I overcome what's still in front of me?
Too many hours, my fingers are callused from the six strings
I have been home for long enough to put my thoughts into order
And I know that this will break me, but I'm certain my lonesome will save me
I need this time to be by myself
And I don't want to leave my home for fear of being trampled on or left behind
Why can you not see how much I fucking need this?