When tears gather and melt to an ocean
The fears start to weather to a some kind of potion
While remaining passive is a method that might just work
Every time I turn active feels like i'm stabbed with a
fork

Things I miss, shit i've done- it all comes back to me
Now i'm numb, lacking control, I can hardly see
Wanna do the things I miss, things that aren't shallow
It's the stuff that comes to mind- and then it's hard to
swallow