Counting days, counting blessings
Nothing yet succeed
Sick in the head
Nothing yet succeed
Sick in the head
New hopes that I can't cope
No voice that came to help
Keep digging
What's left for me
Nothing has changed, can't seem to ease my mind
From all those distractions, all I taste now is regret
I will try to stand on my own
I will always be on my fucking own
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