Depression Ren

[Verse]
My thought patterns are composed by a time-bomb for an author
Like pigs to the slaughter
A symphony of self-doubt sings out, breath starts getting shorter
Running water
Is the state that I wish to become
Instead concrete envelopes my movement and I am rendered, deaf and dumb
Unable to heed the advice of others
Don't tell me things will get better
'Cause so far things haven't got better
I've got the sweater
Poster child Bipolar ADHD
Therapists wet dream
I don't wanna talk about my father, I don't wanna talk about my dead friend
I don't wanna talk about myself, I'm sick of talking about myself
I'm sick of talking about my self and realizing that talking about myself never, ever helps
Still...I call for help, 'cause I really want help
But the pills didn't seem to help
And the therapists didn't seem to help
But still... I want help
I've danced with the devil in hell
I've sat in a prisonless cell
And here I always dwell
In this prison in myself

[Bridge]
I do this thing where my mind travels back to the golden age
You know those times where you were carefree and everything was golden? The golden age
You know those times where everything was golden?
Where you were carefree and everything was golden
The hardest thing I ever had to do
Was come to terms with the fact that...