Every time you fall,
I grow a little taller,
I mean a little more to someone else.
Every time you want me underneath you,
I’m on top of someone else.

My door won't fit your shape anymore.
My door won't fit your shape.

And when you crawl back to the surface,
I’m alive in someone else.
And when I viewed your extremities lifeless,
I realize you were someone else.

I need a harsh release,
cause I can't go by my own feet.

And now it's just all about the chemicals, and all the pretty girls, and
anything to make you feel less of a leper in a healthy word.
Closures there, but IM not quite. So I take it upon my self to dig right
into you, expecting answers and tissue. But all of your insides were just
plastic and paper glued. And for once, I have you.