I'm lost again. Wandering through a hazy streetlight gleam. I need something to gratify me. I think I have been here before, because everything feels the same. Depraved. Caught between who I am, and who I aspire to be. "Self destruction (it's) got me again." I felt content here once. I find it again from time to time, it's fleeting, like daylight in these winter months, anxiety is foreboding like the coming rain. Caught between who I am, and who I aspire to be. "Self destruction (it's) got me again." I can't hide here anymore, tucked away in shadows, like we used to do in Maplewood. Back wehn the slightest vice could ease my insatiable need, and now if you gave me the world, it would never be enough. Self destruction, this isn't who I want to be, this is not me, this cannot be me. Please believe this is who I wish to be, you see, "I'm just a soul whose intentions are good."