In small steps you're treading backwards
Not completely, yet mostly
Things you wanted, you don't
Things you thought were right, weren't
You worked so hard to get here

Still torn between black and white
Grey doesn't exist
and if it does
its way too fucked up to involve yourself in it

Why weren't we all born as cats?
I'd rather the long naps and dull stares
I didn't fucking sign up for this

When you're outside of the looking glass
It's crazy what you might find.
Sound sleep. Meaningful relationships.

The creak of the bed frame reminds me of braces.
You're trapped but it's not in the worst way.
The worst is the excuses.
You find different ways of being alone.

The explaining of "no really, it's not you. It's me."
And how we've all fucked that up to a point that no one believes it.
We've got to learn to balance our time.
I've got to learn to balance my time.