Every day is like a room with white-washed walls
A blank slate that's welcome, until that's all there is at all
No more phone calls today, all the world's against me
I've learned to love stasis, she is my consistency
I'll come home when I am ready
I'll be back when I am strong
And in time I'll be less jaded
And in time I won't have to stay away
Give me three more days and maybe I'll be fine
I need all this time to cross the mountains in my mind
No more phone calls, no more faces, eyes, or voices
I am starting to wonder if all my vices are my choices
And I don't need no medicine but beer and isolation
Reaching the bottle's bottom might put pause to my frustration
Worry and concern create my cocktail called despair
And it seems to me this sadness, it is my occupation
I await the day the victor comes to claim me
Be it sunlight or the nameless thing, these honest, awful hands will take away