I JUST WOKE UP FROM MOURNING, I'M FIXATED WITH MYSELF
SO I CLIMB THE WATERFALL INTO A WORLD OF PRIVATE HELP
WHEN PEERING INTO CONSCIOUSNESS THE HOLE IS VAGUELY SHAPED
AND A SIREN'S SONG IS ALWAYS WRONG AND ALWAYS HARD TO SHAKE

I'M A SUCKER FOR A POET'S WORDS
I'M A DOORMAT FOR A SMILING LIE
AND IF YOU COULD FEEL HALF OF WHAT I FELT FOR YOU...STILL

I SURVIVED THORNS AND DICE x3
AND I'M NOT GOING HOME...

ONE MORE VIOLENT RITUAL STILL HASN'T CHANGED A THING
BUT IT STILL SEEMS ROMANTIC WHEN THE DARKNESS STARTS TO RING
SELF DESTRUCTION IN THE SHARDS OF LOSS, THIS LOSS HAS MARRED THE SKIN
FORCED ERUPTION OF A TEAR STAINED THOUGHT, THIS THOUGHT INVITES THE END

I GET HIGH ON EXPERIENCE
I GET HIGH ON A SURROGATE CROSS
AND IF YOU COULD FIT THIS RHYTHM WITHOUT SIGHT...STILL

I SURVIVED THORNS AND DICE x3
AND I'M NOT GOING HOME...

TORTURE IN THE CONFRONTATION
FREEDOM IN THE REALIZATION
RAINING ASSURANCE FROM LIPS I BELIEVE

I SURVIVED THORNS AND DICE x3
AND I'M NOT GOING HOME...

I'M JUST SCARRED, I'M NOT GOING HOME