All my life, what I mistook for friendly pats on the back
Were really the hands that pushed me further and further down
The more I struggle, the less I achieve
Deep, chlorine breath
Minutes bleed into hours, bleed into days
Something keeps me in this disinfected womb
We see things differently in daylight, I suppose
I mean, everything is an excuse for something
But my conscience is intact, I can deny everything
I'm waving into blind eyes
|
Switch to English 
