Sick Of It

When the hole in your chest seems to tear
With the rip in your dress you didn’t know was there,
And the hole in your bank account’s too big
To be filled with anything,

When your smile pulls away like a bullet train
And you run for the doors but they close in your face
And nothing feels okay,

Take off your glasses, raise your fists
And tell the world you’re sick of it.
You know exactly what they are
And you don’t have to feel like this anymore.

When the kitchen sink seems upset
You make it carry more than it can,
And the clothes on the floor are begging you
To get up, get dressed, leave this room,

When the empties that line the floor by the couch
Are like purple hearts and you can’t figure out
What you were sad about,

Take off your glasses, raise your fists
And tell the world you’re sick of it.
You know exactly what they are
And you don’t have to feel like this anymore.

You can try to run away,
Look for answers in everything,
Wish on an eyelash or full moon
And wonder who will answer you

When the hole in your chest seems to tear
With the rip in your dress you didn’t know
You didn’t know.

Take off your glasses, raise your fists
And tell the world you’re sick of it.
You know exactly what they are
And you don’t have to feel like this anymore.

When the hole in your chest feels too big
To be filled with anything.