I stay inside my bed
I have lived so many lives all in my head.
And don't tell me that you care
There really isn't anything now, is there?
You would know, wouldn't you?
You extend your hand to those who suffer
To those who know what it really feels like
To those who've had a taste like that means something.
And oh so sick I am
And maybe I don't have a choice.
And maybe that is all I have?
And maybe this is a cry for help?