my mind sinks while coffee stinks and it used to smell so good
reluctance meets apprehensive thoughts of feeling second best
left is right and up is down and failure feels the worst
lonely captor in a cave sings songs of stockholm syndrome
written by his own two hands that held him down so long
the eagerness to know someone who doesn't come up short
is swallowed by the fear of knowing they'll never be in reach
clock keeps ticking, says get your shit moving, stop your whining
you feel like crying but you can't, you won't, you shouldn't, you will
until it's dark again and the roaches are in their nests, so fucking pleased with themselves until it's the next day and the sound of them, the sound of time slipping through my fingers can soil the next cup of coffee i won't even bother to make