Songs lung their emphasis at my emotional pittance, and it has battered me quite successfully this fateful morning. I steered unscathed for the counting weeks to only ascertain that matters of the heart are riddling around a three-sixty, and truthfully I'm fatigued from the stopovers over all these years. Sentiments eclipse behind stubborn and unyielding guards, yet it gracefully flourishes at the hind of firm stands.

Reminisce comes brutal at times like this. Stupid morning, stupid songs.

I started out clean but I'm jaded
Just phoning it in
Just breaking the skin

Can you help me I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together

You're breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me bent

Start bending me
It's never enough
I feel all your pieces

Start bending me
Keep bending me until I'm completely broken in