The moneys not enough and the drugs aren't a stable crutch. Stability's not what it was, there's no distraction worth relying on

Smother me, in all the things that I've done wrong. Anxiety and pressure, in my lungs. Where did I even fuck up? Is this anything at all?

I seem fine on the outside, but seemings not enough

My body won't rebound just like your broken couch. You always kept it around. Your guilty conscience weighed it down

I never asked for you to feel anything
I never meant for you to care about me