Wise Count The Hours

Don’t ask how I’m getting along. Looking at pictures of good days long gone. Can’t help but feel the sky is falling, can’t help but feel the cold dirt calling. Driving by the house where Eric died, where he hung himself and a whole town cried. It’s freezing here and my hearts the same. Breathing deep doesn’t smother the pain. So keep it shallow and keep your voice low, just a piss and a smoke and then I’ll go. Loneliness is the funniest thing, makes me so desperate, makes it so hard to think. Won’t be content with working my whole life, and though I’m doing well enough to scrape by, I’m still scraping, so it fucking hurts. Between Saturday nights I’m feeling lonely and cursed. Rehash another story about confronting our fears. Better days becoming yesteryears. Flat lining days and the loneliest nights. Guts into knots as I’m writing goodbyes. Yeah I know that I promised, but I can’t help myself. It’s pouring harder and harder. I’ve gotta go and I’ll take anyway out. Now I know how you figured it out. I hate it here, so why stick around? I’m not crazy, I just want out. It’s getting too tough to keep my head in the clouds. I need out today. I need out today. This misery is fucking relentless. There’s nothing you can do to prevent this. Don’t beat yourself up, this is all on me. Don’t get mad at the service, now I’m better, I’m free. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7, all good children go to heaven. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7, all good children go to heaven. No fucking regrets

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