These lights, this city - under their waves my mind begins to drift away,
Such malice beneath beauty, send anyone looking for a safer place, like home,
Am I alone?
If I break, is there somewhere I can be whole again?
Is there a safe haven: somewhere to heal from the assisted self-inflicted pain?
From my failures, because something's dying down inside of me.
Can't shake this...this feeling,
Sickle stares, and believe they reach the heart of me,
An insistence and persistence of sifting through, until they find the deepest, darkest deeds,
In this home sweet home, I sleep with one eye open and hide from the day,
Inspected, dissected, laid open for the triggermen to fire away at my failures.
Something's dying down inside of me,
Is this feeling?
Is this real? - well, it must be something,
From nothing, nothing comes.
I've seen in dark places,
Small flames cutting through where there were none before,
So simple, so precious, but still small, still open, still vulnerable,
And this home away from home,
This shelter from the ever-present enemy has kept score and closed doors,
Brightest fires kept inside, close and comfortable from the failures.
But the fire is dying, down inside of me,
Is this feeling?
Is this real? - well, it must be something,
From nothing, nothing comes.
With all my failures, something's dying down inside of me.
