Chalking The Outlines, Waiting For Bodies.

Sorry if this seems a bit half arsed, I can't get my head together at the moment, any more than to write this:

I've been rolling with the punches since way before you even knew me
My bodies made of bruises honey, theres nothing you can do to me.
That's not already there, this life has tattooed me.
I'm nothing but a ghost of a man, these fists fly right through me.

God, I'd give it all to take a hit.

I'm sorry, I've become one of the living dead.
The only way to get by is by turning off my fucking head.
Eternal sunshine of the unthinking mind.
I once saw the light at the end of the tunnel, now I wish I'd been born blind.

God, I'd give it all to not see this.

I'd give it all to not be this.

I'd give it all to not feel this.

I'm giving in, I'm feeling sick.