Remember when I said I was high above the quicksand,
And I won't sink, I won't sink far enough
At least enough to need a helping hand?
Or did I change my plan?
The pressure in my head is enough to start a fire.
Is it easier to blame everybody other than me for the rain?
Or did I play that game?
If my head's up in the clouds,
I know myself much better now,
And I don't like what I see.
I don't know what you saw in me.
I'm just tripping up,
I'm slipping up
Am I real or am I dead?
Is that even a real question?
Can you tell me that I'm half the man you knew
When I was making out my plans?
Or is this where it ends?
I suppose I'm out of bounds
But I can't help wanting you now.
And I guess that I've become
Exactly what I tried to run from.
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