I’m sick of worrying so much about worrying
I forget how to swim while I’m still standing on dry land
I wanna make my mind, make it stop, make it stop, stop hurrying
you see me drowning but don’t offer a helping hand
but worse things have happened to better people
and even they don’t have to spend their nights alone
I’m so sick of the constant silence, the quiet crisis
what’s the point of pavement if there’s still gonna be potholes?
paralysis by analysis gets exhausting
tell me, is there anywhere on this earth I haven’t cried?
sometimes I get so caught up, I’m caught up, caught up in the haunting
that I have to remind myself I’m still alive and I haven’t died
but I guess that worse things have happened to better people
and even they don’t have to spend their nights alone
I’m so sick of the constant silence, the quiet crisis
what’s the point of pavement if there’s still gonna be potholes?
what’s the point of swimming if I still can’t stay afloat?
what’s the point of trying if I still can’t stay composed?
what’s the point of changing if I still don’t have control?
what’s the point of pavement if there’s still gonna be potholes?
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