This depression, like an arrow straight through the heart,
it must've been playing with crayons when it drew the dark.
It's my life, I'm cast in the loser part,
every day I suffer, my heart, I lose a part.
My soul, I lose a part,
my brain, well, that already blew apart.

I gained a licence for silence,
whilst my brain suffers the violence,
from an entity that refuses to be silenced.

I have no words to say,
well none that I'm...