Each time it comes to eat me alive, I try to behave but it eats me alive.
So I declare a holiday
Fall asleep, Drift away.
Desperate poets refer to this as the melancholy before depression. A little blues to feed the artistic spirit. A little sullen swing into the rapid decline of thoughts. Bit by bit I surrender myself to the darkness. Piece by piece my soul is swallowed into the sea and I don't fight it.
A change of scenery works wonders for the vacant soul. Fill it with mindless, faceless people who don't care. Building the rigidity up and then letting it crash. Broken like a wounded spirit too desolate to go on. Broken, broken woman. Too proud to scream and too boastful not to.
Wandering down the street to the house that makes me or breaks me. Hollowed out like melons in the winter. Bitter and sour to the taste. Sugar is deflected and spat out like unwanted fat on the rhine of tough meat. Will I choose the high road? Will I choose dignity? Will I choose my strength? Or will I hide behind my guards.
Ireland has always welcomed me with open arms. Dublin will be warm tomorrow. How's about a cool stout for a hellbent lass? Top of the morning to you. Goodbye.
Fall asleep, Drift away.
Desperate poets refer to this as the melancholy before depression. A little blues to feed the artistic spirit. A little sullen swing into the rapid decline of thoughts. Bit by bit I surrender myself to the darkness. Piece by piece my soul is swallowed into the sea and I don't fight it.
A change of scenery works wonders for the vacant soul. Fill it with mindless, faceless people who don't care. Building the rigidity up and then letting it crash. Broken like a wounded spirit too desolate to go on. Broken, broken woman. Too proud to scream and too boastful not to.
Wandering down the street to the house that makes me or breaks me. Hollowed out like melons in the winter. Bitter and sour to the taste. Sugar is deflected and spat out like unwanted fat on the rhine of tough meat. Will I choose the high road? Will I choose dignity? Will I choose my strength? Or will I hide behind my guards.
Ireland has always welcomed me with open arms. Dublin will be warm tomorrow. How's about a cool stout for a hellbent lass? Top of the morning to you. Goodbye.