I keep sitting on my windowsill
The view remains the same
your gone and I'm alone
there's no one else to blame
I keep turning to an anaesthetic
Anything to make me numb
cut, starve, smoke and drink
makes it easier to run from
Run from the voices in your head
starve yourself because ana said
open your skin again with the blade
hoping for the day you begin to fade
down the alcohol till you feel raw
passing out cold on the floor
im always in this constant state
somehow I already know my fate
you could never piece me together
Always lost someway or another
