And I’m amazed I can even hold a guitar: my palms are always sweating and I always catch myself off guard with all the simple things I manage to fail at. I hate this body, but I guess I’m stuck with it.
And I know I’ll never make it out alive, but I hope that I’m proven wrong for once this time. And I can’t expect you to understand that I could keep my chin up, but what’s the point?
And maybe I wouldn’t be this guy, if I didn’t grow up such a sponge for everything in my life. So thank you Sunday school for teaching me to hate who am, and I wish I knew what showed me to so love being sad.
And I know I’ll never make it out alive, but I hope that I’m proven wrong for once this time. And I can’t expect you to understand that I could keep my chin up, but what’s the point?
Well maybe I just need a trip out of my head, but it’s the only place I’ve ever been. And I know that I shouldn’t complain, I mean after all things could be worse, couldn’t they?
And I know I’ll never make it out alive, but I hope that I’m proven wrong for once this time. And I can’t expect you to understand that I could keep my chin up, but what’s the point?