Watching all that is, as it's becoming all that was Right there before your eyes; And sometimes, what should have have been, further down the line If you'd kept it together a little more But it's all OK... Because, by the way... One day none of it will have meant a thing Cause we all die, as do all of those who could have remembered us So what the fuck am I worried about? All this self-doubting, and paranoia The self-destruction just to have a sense of control. How can that even fucking work anyway? To feel a sense of control, by giving in to no control. So I'll just lay right here, in this hole, That I dug alone, and on purpose. Simply so I could see.. If I'd feel like climbing out.