“When reality seems too difficult for us to face, we retreat behind defensive mechanisms. Remember the boy who couldn’t dance who always brought a pint to the party? He was trying to escape from a sense of his own inadequacy. The next morning he had a hangover, and he still couldn’t dance.”
Yea, I’m having these thoughts again: this world is so strange how am I a part of it?
And what’s my part in it? Did I fall from grace, does it fall in place, and do we all fall apart like this?
Am I just wasted space? Have I been stuck in a cycle perpetuating the same mistake?
Is this the view of my life passing me while I stay in place, when reality hits hard like an 808.
My purpose isn’t the paper chase; I’m searching for the strength to step to my personal issues face to face.
Used to think about the razor blade and bleeding out until I turned around and rewired my mental database.
Let it breathe, loud as the combination and contemplation, a confrontation with my frame of view;
this is me, shattering the here and now; I’m here and now, open the wreckage while I create a new
bridge to maneuver, a lens for the future, the cleanse that cut loose from the constrictions of opinions
and the image of thought mattered, hearing the walls chatterin', now I’m breaking free from restrictions of thought patterns yo.
Distractions that had me froze, fell in love with those; the alternating pain and happiness that comes and goes.
Cut the hole from every string inside this puppet show and maybe a new life is sitting right outside my comfort zone.
Creating art to see our human side connected; using the music vibe as a suicide prevention.
A piece of me that broke the pieces; thinking of a number between thinking it over and overthinking.
And maybe you’re like a tree: you see your leaves fall, you watch the fruits of your labor hit the floor;
you endure the changing of the seasons—the cold, the warm, the rain, the storms—to make your roots deepen.
Maybe you’re like a tree, maybe you’re like a tree: no orbits until my problems are sprouted up from a seed;
and to see your faces in feat from places where I feel stranded, from the roots of depression where misconceptions are planted.
Disconnected from the planet, now the branches are withering; the answers aren’t as simple as our imagined derivatives.
I inhabit my habits like psychiatric imprisonment, rising from the ashes that were scattered by the riverbed.
Depressed pain starts wildfires from past to breeze, burn away hurt and mistakes like dead branches—leaves. Searching…
Oooooooh, Oooooooooooh, OoooooOOOOOOOoooooooh…
Breaking hour glasses, building sand castles out this dirt that you kicking on us—help me keep my feet planted. Searching: broken open but still whole, holding hope, looking for the light to help my petals blossom.
Breaking hour glasses, building sand castles out this dirt that you kicking on us—help me keep my feet planted. Searching: broken open but still whole, holding hope, looking for the light to help my petals blossom.
Had these growing pains since a teen with the peach fuzz, my heart holding memories like the rings of a tree trunk;
I reach up, try’na grab a piece of gravity while I travel rapidly on reality’s balance beam.
Chasing after my dreams like nightmares are chasing after me; still in the struggle feeling leg muscles start to atrophy.
So what matters really? What matters really? And what is this I’m feeling? And what’s the matter with me?
Self mutilation: am I trying to ask for help? Searching for the answers but I don’t know what to ask myself.
No pill can fix this, I feel so distant, it’s hard trying to understand your own existence.
Altering my senses, all I see is fences; what turns a thought process to a chemical condition?
Maybe we need to listen, maybe we need to listen to the victims of the ward; it’s a war we’re waging on our children.
Like nobody’s here for us, all they do is judge us, and then we turn to these substances to numb us.
I wish you woulda put the knife down or put the gun up, dedicated to all the precious lives taken from us.
Never assume you understand another person’s journey; a lot of us are bleeding internally but we keep it hidden.
Every tree is different, some need a little attention, reaching towards grace and hope to find the coping mechanism. Coping mechanism, coping mechanism. Coping mechanism, coping mechanism.
Coping mechanism, coping mechanism. Coping mechanism, coping mechanism.
Breaking hour glasses, building sand castles out this dirt that you kicking on us—help me keep my feet planted. Searching: broken open but still whole, holding hope, looking for the light to help my petals blossom.
Breaking hour glasses, building sand castles out this dirt that you kicking on us—help me keep my feet planted. Searching: broken open but still whole, holding hope, looking for the light to help my petals blossom.
“I’m just making a conscious choice to perceive challenges as something beneficial, so that I can deal with them in the most productive way. I guess that’s what I’m really trying to say here today: sometimes it’s okay to eat your feelings.”
Lyrics Submitted by Emily Jahnsen
Lyrics provided by https://damnlyrics.com/