I wake up everyday with a hole in my head and chest.
I needa feel something so I burn my arm on a cigarette,
but if you said you were cold, I’d set myself on fire
and try and use your existence to feel inspired, once again.
You know I hate your guts, but you’re my one true friend?
I swear I won’t give up, I wanna feel again .
I went and saw my GP and they said my brain has a cold,
try to get some rest and use this medicine to make the feelings go.
They told me ‘Stevie, your issues will amplify, if you continue to allow environments where they thrive.’
You know I hate your guts, but you’re my one true friend?
I swear I won’t give up, I wanna feel again .
Don’t hang out in wrong crowds
or walk around at night, I was taught.
But, there is irony in that I’m most unsafe at home with my own thoughts.
You know I hate your guts, but you’re my one true friend?
I swear I won’t give up, I wanna feel again.
I’m sitting up on my roof,
looking out over Brunswick Street,
and looking down, wondering… Hoping…
Tomorrow will come and get me outta my head.
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