Panacea

Art By Numbers

Starting over with no hope for turning back.
Still it's calling me ... it's calling me.
Saturated with a vigorous routine.
I hear it calling me ... still calling me again.

Under this stress, it's a mess I cannot avoid entirely.
Trapped in distraction, again I fall the victim to fighting thoughts with focus.
This paradox will be the end of me!

Wired head to toe the rest must go.
Wired head to toe the rest must go.

No need for an alibi.
I can't recall what's next, unless I learn of a past demise.
This scattered recollection fails.
My mind is pacing back and forth, through walls of a restless daze.
And consciousness is fading.

What breaks inside is not the world to me.
But will I ever make my way back safe inside this remedy.
What breaks inside is not the world to me.
But will I ever make my way back safe inside this remedy.

If I had an ounce of strength left, I could assure myself that I'm alright.

The fall of a battling man is unstoppable!
The fall of a battling man is unstoppable!
Watch your step!

What breaks inside is not the world to me.
But will I ever make my way back safe inside this remedy.
What breaks inside is not the world to me.
But will I ever make my way back safe inside this remedy.