I touch my face, I close my eyes, I treat my thoughts like a maze. Pinned to the wall, a sinner and a saint interlock their legs. And is this what I wanted? I can tell it's not but, what ever is? It's just that I can't seem to measure up to those fake guitars, and falsely broken hearts. And the truth is, I'm afraid. And the truth is, I'd give anything to feel brave for just one day in my life. Be my be my sequoia tree, and I will be will be better than I am right now. be my be my sequoia tree and i will clean, will clean these thoughts that make me want to stop breathing, stop eating. I just want to see the sun again. And the truth is I can't see. and the truth is I blame clarity. becuase it's the only thing thats never ever close to me. I just want to take a breath and feel the air reach my lungs.