Those nights where you feel so hopeless and alone,
Where all you know is that you don’t want to go home.
Those are the nights I remember the most.
The ones where I thought there was no escape.
No one there who could understand,
The captivating thoughts I locked myself in.
Those thoughts that made me wish air didn’t exist,
That I could suffocate myself with the stillness and silence my life became.
Wishing I could escape this hell…this damned place I found myself.
So, I’d walk, I’d walk until I could no more.
Until the soles on my shoes turned to hot rubber,
Making me feel what, again, it was like to physically hurt.
Then I’d remember I still had to go back.
But go back to that loathsome place I call home?
To that depression creating environment people call life?
“Well, that’s just how it is, some people don’t have a choice.”
That’s what they say when you’d talk about going away.
Going away where? Run away or drift through the night…
Returning to that one place you saw bearing so much warm light.
When you were so close to being free, when you had a choice,
Standing there feeling the pain, the warmth of the wet, red, blood.
So, close, so goddamn close to going away.
But people are taught what’s wrong and what’s right and that was not right.
Freedom is what I sought, it’s what I craved and yearned for,
It’s what I fought for in my dreams.
To be free from this dreadful catastrophe.
Birds have to fly, given wings to soar through the sky.
That’s what I wanted, to fly and be free.
That’s how I know what you mean when you say,
It just might be better to run away.