Spirit Trap

Well, I crossed my heart, and I hoped to die again.

Even stuck the needle in my eye again.

Just wish that I can go back in time again.

Before I know it, I’m already high again.

Because baby, you’re just like Vicodin.

Like “Hey, it’s me, I just came to say hi again.”

You want the truth? Then don’t get upset when you’re hearing that.

You’ve lost yourself in a spirit trap.

Pull yourself together, babe, you’re going mad.

They call him Dark Father, but was never their dad.

Your red heart just keeps turning black.

Life goes on, but you just keep turning back.

Well, I kicked my stool and I hanged myself today.

Even prayed a prayer, and I don’t even pray.

I slit my throat and I killed myself again.

I need to tell you something, but can’t find the words to say.

You try to face yourself, there’s so much fear in that.

You find yourself in a spirit trap.

A secret’s safe with me, no, I won’t tell a soul.

I’d still hold you tight if you were never mine to hold.

Well, I crossed my heart, then I hoped to die again.

Even stuck the needle in my eye again.

I’m happy today, tomorrow it’s fuck life again.

Dust myself off, I’m ready now to try again.

Like “Hi, it’s me, I came to say goodbye again.”

Reality’s not real, it only mirrors back.

I’m sitting under a spirit trap.

Some of life’s white and some of it is black.

My bones aren’t really broken, but yes, some of them are cracked.

Well, I took too many pills, and then I overdosed today.

Visiting the spirit world, but I don’t have to stay.

Am I still alive or have I killed myself again?

I’m a little frightened, still I’m trying to be brave.

Well, I thought I might be dreaming, so I pinched myself today.

Life is like a game that I don’t want to play.

I crashed into a tree, oops, I cut my breaks again.

I just need some sleep, boy it’s been a shitty day.

The end of the world, looks just like it’s nearing that.

But it’s nothing more than a spirit trap.

Here’s a shirt I’ve never had the back for.

Open up the front ones as I’m closing all the back doors.

But perhaps, they’re not all black.

You just keep giving, giving, giving, but you’re never given back.