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I've trekked this city's streets in the pouring rain
As I begin to have tricks played on my brain
I begin to think that I'm not alone
And that there's someone waiting for me at home
With the porch light on.
And as the stoplight changes, all the thoughts are gone
And I cross the street trying
To vanquish any thoughts of dying.
Why is it that everyone comes to me for advice,
When I don't know where the hell I am half the time?
I always feel like the walls are closing in on me to make a decision:
If I wanna live or die.
And if I'm gone, will people miss me, will they cry?
Believe me, I've been trying
To vanquish all these thoughts of dying.
I don't want these anymore.
