X Amount of Words

Relapse prevent, trigger intent
Now drown, high strung say x amount of words
Your solar, bipolar panic disorder
Seems harder and harder and harder
Still you try to control it
You mold, you mold, yeah you shape to mold
Oh, you’re bold, you’re bold, but your shape is bold
You’re a symptom superficial
To what they call knowing you
Minus the speed, could you imagine the phobia?

Chorus:
Oh, we’re recording
Oh, we’re recording

Your brain is faulty wiring, the reason for tiring
Keep treating the curse, imagine the worst
Systematic, sympathetic, quite pathetic
Apologetic, paramedic, your heart is prosthetic
A plate of quite peculiar on a dish of my own
A tablespoon of feather, tickle me to the bone
Give me recipes for happy with the chemicals gone
Drinking freedom from a bottle to the tune of belong

Chorus:
Oh, we’re recording (I only want to be)
Oh, we’re recording, we’re recording (I can’t believe)
Oh! (I only want to see)
Oh! (I can’t believe)
Maybe (I only want to see)
Oh!

I’m sick of shaking, never waking
From the hell I achieve
I never knew you till you left me
With the crying disease
Another curing, reassuring way to buckle the knees
So mistreated, I repeated, never blessing your sneeze
Now deleted and defeated, I will stand on my own
Yeah, your memory that punches me
Has broken the bone
Give me recipes for sorry, I’m admitting I’m wrong
Still your memory that punches me
Has broken the bone