It really is a simple thing
To let yourself fester and rot.
Just fixedly drown
In continuing days of twisted thinking
Under this unfulfilling sky.
I shred apart, I shred apart,
I shred apart, I shred apart,
This half-heartedness.

Slop of mud, slop of mud, slop of mud
Slop of mud, slop of mud, slop of mud,
My mind’s muddy slop.

This is the worth of a mental breakdown.

I turn all these emotions that have no place to settle
Into an ambiguous haze.
What on earth is even the correct thing?
I am far too fulfilled; I can’t even tell what’s right.
What exactly is freedom?
Or am I just overthinking?
There is nothing that I hold in my hands.
I can grasp onto nothing.
It hurts me, it hurts me,
It hurts me, it hurts me,
But I can’t stop.

This is the worth of a mental breakdown.
Compare yourself to someone else and
All you get is envy!

Slop of mud, slop of mud, slop of mud
Slop of mud, slop of mud, slop of mud,
My mind’s muddy slop.

This is the worth of a mental breakdown.
Blame everything on someone else and
Making excuses is all you’ll be able to do!