Slammed Doors And Slit Wrists
i walk in the door and i'm smothered, by people and powder and smoke
not one of them knows of my story, yet all of them wanting my help
take a deep breath full of toxins, exhale the tar tainted air
all of them screaming and bitching at me, do they even notice i'm here?
doing my best for all of them, so torn between friends and love
what choice do i have, i make them all mad, i know i'll end up alone
Sometimes i feel like i'm screaming, although i make scarcely a sound
anger pent up threatens escape, but i swallow the razors back down
slammed doors and slit wrists make no effect, forgetting does not mean release
all i want i can't have, all i have i don't want, what happened to living in ease?