Cost

If I could just unlock the mystics of this brain
Then I could kill the siren whispering my name
Instead, she pulls me in across a tightrope over my grave
Little does she knows that she’s fuckin’ with a soul I don’t really wanna save
Sweet oblivion, you taste so good to me
I shoulda known that you were everything but free
If I could just untie this knot that’s coming loose
Then I would quantify the squeeze for the juice
Instead, I’m out here bobbin’ on a wake of decimation I choose
Little did I know I’m already predisposed to these quicksand blues
I shoulda known it then, so I vacate your street
And I get fearful now when someone younger repeats after me:
Good God, holy hell
I revel in this turbulence-I love to hate myself