Call it a crisis, call it a curse,
How sad a song to sum of my life in a verse.
Fuck it; there's one thing I know to settle the score,
But you're better than that,
Or so they say, how the hell would they know anyway?
It's not a joke, it's not a play,
When you can barely stand the person in the mirror
you find a way to barely see her.
Unrecognized through the haze,
And made for better days,
But it's the rights that do me wrong,
The easiest truth I've ever found,
Was at the bottom of tall clear bottle,
But you're better than that,
Or so they say, how the hell would they know anyway?
A chance to change, a chance to be,
A chance I might as well give away,
Only the strongest can lay down their vices,
The best can pass this consent test,
There's nothing to be said for a lonely wagon,
A single rider, nothing to lose and nothing left,
But you're better than that,
Or so they say, how the hell would they know anyway?
These thoughts that fester,
This vice that can kill,
A numbing reminder,
I'll never be better.
But you're better than that,
Or so they say...
I'm not perfect but I'm not broken.
I am better then this,
This vice that grips like a noose around my neck,
Someday soon I'll cut this rope.
I'll be free of this hell, this nightmare, this curse,
Someday I'll have only scars left of memory,
Scars that will be my constant reminder,
I will be better.