The Same - ESM

I cave myself in with my own walls

I dig this hole — my own shovel

I beat myself to a bloody pulp

I turn inwards to face what I am

How easy it is to cast this all aside

Each morning I awake and sit in the same fucking chair, to think the same

fucking thoughts, and do the same nothing

Am I entirely to blame for this remoteness?

The same melody plays in my head

I’ll never get it to end

The compression of ambience

Brings forth a clarity

Could it be that just now

I’ve come to realize

That months have turned to minutes

And I am the sands of time

They never said it would be the same in the wild