I stay inside my bed I have lived so many lives all in my head. And don't tell me that you care There really isn't anything now, is there? You would know, wouldn't you? You extend your hand to those who suffer To those who know what it really feels like To those who've had a taste like that means something. And oh so sick I am And maybe I don't have a choice. And maybe that is all I have? And maybe this is a cry for help?