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No greeting and you’re shouting the roof down.
Same debacle that I saw last week.
September, October, November rain.
Either way, I get no time on my own.
Could’ve sworn that we had this conversation yesterday.
Throwing insults like stones, and your aim is true.

Let me be. To be alone is my chosen alignment.
Can’t you see? This is a voluntary confinement.

Set me free.

Empty rooms, white walls, nobody but me.
At this rate, I’ll never get that wish.
Didn’t occur to you that I might just like some fucking peace and quiet.

Let me be. To be alone is my chosen alignment.
Can’t you see? This is a voluntary confinement.

Set me free.

Total anguish, constant pain, you leave a taste of disdain.
Thorough loathing, unrivaled hate, emphysematous race.
I’ll pray tonight, and every night just to find some release.
Don’t need “somebody”, and I don’t need you to set me free.

Help me, before I help myself.

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