It tastes like copper in my mouth,
I can feel it in my throat heading south,
Even though theres no rhyme or reason,
In my bones a sudden change of the season

Strangling me with my own hand,
My own blood spilling into the sand,
It feels like drowning on dry land,
Unable to pull myself up and stand

A foul shade lingering over me named Insecurity,
Behind him follows the hell hound Anxiety,
They beg me ask myself if I am worth loving,
A spectre of questions am I worth saving

Second thoughts over-ran by a third and fourth,
I taste the copper in my mouth,
I bite my tongue until it I draw blood,
The pain is a silent flood

And in the dark alone,
Somewhere people call home,
I try my best to atone,
But now I become stone