All that�s left of me is a pale, pasty shell
Of the man who was once bright.
I feel like all my hopes have sunk to hell
As the light in my eyes dissolves to twilight.

I watch the light reflect off the watery leaves,
As the wind spins them around their stems.
I honestly don�t think anyone believes,
That I might have really serious problems.

Nah, hey, it�s probably just a phase�
Just a vice of youthful inexperience.
But as I watch night overlap days
I take the mornings with less acceptance.

But it doesn�t really matter,
My thoughts don�t even make sense.
I drink more, which makes me sadder,
Referring to my life in past tense.