Art Of Tearing Myself Apart, From The Past

Mom I can't take this life, this life, like it's not right, like it's not mine.

Dad I can have anything I want, why is my life hanging by a thread, why do I feel like there's a gun pointed at the back of my head?

Mom it's the pressure, dad I feel like there's something I missed.

Mom I've got so many questions like, is this what's they call bliss? I've taken center stage and I can't find my way out of this.

Mom it's the new truck, it's the new house. it's the dream I pulled from the clouds to the ground.

Dad tell me it's gonna heal, that everything I sacrificed wasn't real? I can have almost anything others want but I can't have the things that they feel.

I'm so tired of keep up this worth. I just need to watch it burn. Mama tell me, how bad is this gonna to hurt?

Dad let me know, is there something worth holding onto in this whole world? How long is it gonna take, before everyone of my scars and mistakes fade with the wars in my head, waiting for me in my bed, like my regret is the gun pointed to my head.

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