The ceiling’s closing on me like some kind of shell
I can’t escape the pull that’s dragging me to hell
I keep on working because the money is the pill

And never knowing what it is that I want
Forever blowing off the things I said I’ll do
I wasn’t joking when I said it was dark
It’s the small things that dissolve you

I’m chasing my shadow
I’m riding with the ghost
I’m crawling back to the saddle
I’m finding a new low

I’m finding a new low
I found it comfortable
My winding down spiral
I’m finding a new low