Charlotte Sands
Maybe I’ll go outside
And try to count the trees,
Outside of my apartment.
Maybe I’ll close my eyes.
Pretend I’m somewhere else,
Where all the leaves have fallen.
I trust my horoscope,
More than I trust myself.
Keep feeding my ego,
When I should ask for help.
Don’t know where prayers go,
But I’m still scared of hell.
No, I’ll never be alright.
But maybe I’ll get close.
I’m drinking with my ghosts, tonight.
No, I’ll never be alright.
But I heard it gets good.
I’m thinking that I could, in time.
No, I’ll never be, alright.
But it’s gonna be, alright.
I should be keeping score,
Of all the nights I can’t decide
Between getting high or sleeping.
I thought by twenty-four,
I wouldn’t question all affection,
As if I don’t need it.
I trust my horoscope,
More than I trust myself.
Keep feeding my ego,
When I should ask for help.
Don’t know where prayers go,
But I’m still scared of hell.
No, I’ll never be alright.
But maybe I’ll get close.
I’m drinking with my ghosts, tonight.
No, I’ll never be alright.
But I heard it gets good.
I’m thinking that I could, in time.
No, I’ll never be, alright.
But it’s gonna be, alright.
No, I’ll never be, alright.
But it’s gonna be, alright.
And every time I go back to Boston,
It just feels like running away.
And I sink right back to the bottom,
Hoping one day something will change.
All my monsters live in the mirror,
So I stare them straight in the face.
Tell them, even though I’m lost, I’m not afraid.
No, I’ll never be alright.
But maybe I’ll get close.
I’m drinking with my ghosts, tonight.
No, I’ll never be alright.
But I heard it gets good.
I’m thinking that I could, in time.
