Don't think it's a call, a plea for help.
I never asked anyone.
From what I've seen, from the look of things I can only help myself.
I had faith that I was loved by you.
But it has filtered through.
Seeping through my hands.
A fistful of shit.
Left with no more than a glimpse of what you have become.
Who really cares when you're down and out?
Who really cares when no ones around?
You stand alone, you make your claim.
You stand alone.
