I fell under the doormat
Below the floor once welcoming
Promise rings symbolize the grief
A distant second guess from these separate beds

The pen cap-less abandon throughout the house dry from neglect
Those tiny things that once needled me
The distant minor drought
Less then zero now

Give up the enemy
I wanna give up the enemy
I wanna feel something that makеs me weep
Not grieve thе lost centuries

The spell under the doormat
Fair play to end this tragic tale
Our loved ones cry, though no one died
Just adjust their ties and connect the lies
Those promises now seem meaningless in this dank basement where mold spores smell of death

I'm not the enemy
I know that you're not the enemy
We wanna feel something that makes us weep
As we sow our seeds so shall we reap
We will feel something again in grief
Without grieving lost centuries, choking on memories, counting wasted time
I fell under the doormat
A punch line in an epic fail
Those promise rings
Melted antique dreams
I don't wanna leave, but I have to leave