"talking to myself"

Everytime I ask if this would be the last

Hoping you will have the keys to my cell

I've finally stopped stopped making sense

A desperate cry for help

Would be the last

Hoping you will have the keys to my Sell

Here come those little thoughts of all I ought to be but I’m not

I’m good I’m bad

beaten by the storm

getting washed by the rain

Cause all I do is take and take

The sky is blinded the night is awake