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I hang my head for those
Who ain't been held too close
In times of pain
When the ceiling drips
The room's bathed in grey
Outside's a trip
For another day

I keep telling those
Expelling those
Negative holes to go away
But it seems to grip
More everyday
Walls get taller
Self-medicate
"And how did you get this low?"
That's what the illness spoke
For every word they had to say
Better off just leaving me this way
Better off just to leave it

Guess this ain't the world that I dreamt of
How many hits can one bum take?
How many things can one boy make?
I wrap myself inside my duvet
You think those blue giants feel the same?
You think they ever have these days?
You think they ever have these days?
You think they ever have these days?

(These days)