My Bones Are Full Of Holes

Another year of thinking that the air is too thick to breathe
I'm pretty sure my bones are full of holes and I'm inclined to believe
That I've got it down to a fine art
When it comes to feeling like shit for the most part
And that I’ve got myself to blame for the unnecessary strain that’s putting pressure on my heart
When I got your letter I didn’t know quite what to say
I’m sorry that you ever felt so low, but I’m glad that you’re okay
You should be proud that you made it out alive
Especially after feeling so dead inside
And I thank you for showing me that I have less reasons to hide

Because the more alone I feel the more I realize that I'm not
With every friend I'm sure I've lost the more I realize I've still got
And although I still shut down sometimes and head for the westbound train
Whilst trying not to think about social workers and house fires again
I’ve now got those photos of Christine
And can try to remember something good
And continue trying to fix these holes
I’m still trying my best to fix these holes

I got off at Dalreoch station and walked down to the Leven's edge
And thought about how I'd rather live than just survive
Then I kicked a stone at a capsized boat
And for a moment I felt strangely alive