Its Chapter III, in what i hoped was a short story.
Ive tried every self help, every pill, I've washed down with a sorrowful taste
But no, maybe tomorrow, i'll wake up without my self-hate
feeling low, until then though, i'll just sleep through the day, wishing my life away
There's just memories left
And I find myself growing old
The sun comes down
And the night gets cold
Year by year growing old
I built this broken home
Brick by brick
I make myself sick
I'm searching for meaning
It's your name I'm screaming
Mercy me, this is not what I wanted to be
Well I finally broke down
I stay inside barely breathing for days
So no maybe tomorrow,
I'll wake up without my self hate
Feeling low all I know is
This is not what I wanted
There's just memories left
And I find myself growing old
The sun comes down
And the night gets cold
Year by year growing old
I built this broken home
Brick by brick
I make myself sick
I'm searching for meaning
It's your name I'm screaming
They say when you're broken
You will always be broken that way
They say, I'll be okay,
But I'm not feeling anything
They say that they know best
That it's best to forget
There's just memories left