Second chances, second tries, fresh opportunties.

But I'm like a broken record, there's never a new me

Keep on doing the same thing, keep on fucking up things.

Always the same pain, the same stress the same ordeals.

Getting used to that blurry vision and all those closed doors.

And what's worse is that I know, my mind knows oh yeah.

These self destructive notions, it's a vicious cycle.

Up and down, left and right hit that shit on repeat.

Future, past. Inhale, exhale. Go to sleep maybe wake up.

All these choices, I know what I need, but I get what I want.

What about the after? It's always fuck the after. 

Maybe that's why I'm always bitter, it's my routine.

Five till twelve, I'm sitting here, head between my hands.

The toll on my body telling me to take a break.

Terrible addiction, I am used to its affliction...my vicious cycle.

It's the fifty sixth sigh and I'm just hoping I'll come through