Paroles de My Mess

It's days, meaningless like this one, that seem magical in ways, no one else can see, no onebut me. As if I wasn't scared enough. And these days just won't change. These days, sick and sore I swear I'll end it all, I know how to quit, or call in sick to everyone. And I'll be moving on. Except these days just won't change. Forever doesn't look so good, so forever I must try and think of ways to clean up my mess, unlock the door, it's time for me to try to leave. These days, long and uninspired, I feel empty and so tired. Nothing to show for what is now just a lack of strength. And these days just won't change. We're in Hell, Will it end? Will I ever control myself? Will I ever find my childhood strength? Will these days ever change? Will it end?