And I know in the morning when I wake up
I sit at my desk and I sip at my cup
I sink in my seat I stare at the screen
The day is a lie the night's got no dreams
And im tired of waiting forever to say
where im going
to be the next day
Like a man whose forgotten the pleasures, of being
the meaning of breathing
the reason for seeing
the feeling of light like a man on the edge of a knife
and for the life of me I can't believe it's gotten so tight.
Well you moan and you scream and you toss in your sheets
but no sound comes out and no motions released
cause you're scared to deflate or evaporate cause all that you love is the rage in your veins.
Like you always thought it was gonna be
but never thought you'd see it
and you put your hand in your pocket and lean against the wall
and the wall starts to break and your arm dislocates
and you just can't escape through those long prison gates. Or the mirror in the bathroom
or the carpet in the hall
or the guitar with wooden stains
that you're tryin to play.
And I see some people walking outside and I wonder
if they feel the same way I feel?
Or care the way I care?
or mind the way I mind?
or do they know, the reasons for being alive?
Not just to survive, but to thrive
and to climb to the top of a hill with the wind in your hair
and the sky in your eyes and say I've got no fear of whatever arrives.
And to dive and to fly and to swim in your skin like you've never been fearful of anything.