3AM sessions
Lyrics:
I think too much, I try to keep the voices down. Memories are hot to the touch, but the heat of it consumes me as well. It’s getting loud, chaos is starting to swell, paranoia is beginning to dwell, this PTSD is real, there’s a reason why I keep a gun around and it isn’t for the thrills. I felt as though that I lost the will to drive through this journey called life so I might as well just let Jesus take the wheel.
Bridge:
Lost control, I’m spiraling. Ever since I crashed into my past, I’ve been counting my blessings.
Verse 1:
They tell me that I should be happy, that I’m still alive and breathing. Isn’t it kind of morbid to wish that I wasn’t. That night, fateful that i survived. Knocking on Death’s door, I guess it wasn’t my time, fine. Believe me, I tried. I even cried, but it didn’t pry, they called it a miracle. If miracles were real, I wouldn’t have lived this life. This lie that falls under the guise that’s wrapped up in a lie, disguised as a blessing in disguise.
Verse 3:
Look into my eyes and witness the pain trapped inside. No, no, this isn’t right. What is the point of consuming and succumbing to the darkness that surrounds the light?
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