I have become ingrown under my skin
Is it the way I've been or was it just the gin?
I've never realized the fragility within
Every little thing that I put myself in
Waiting for the train
That won't lead me to pain
Apart it tears my brain
Will I ever know myself again?
Is there still a place for a non-essential man?
Where would I have been without my friends' helping hand?
Why is love always the last thing to save?
I am sinking beneath the waves
But I can hear a bell
The next spring I can smell
Your skin, I do as well
Twisted hell, I bid you farewell
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