I am but a farce, a satire of stability Insecurity is an uphill struggle It's me versus the world The shore still starves for another Novel of my shipwrecked being Tied up, dried, and I'm still breathing The sands of time, for me, are running out My hands shake in apprehension Of every action, I'm guilty of playing the victim Just like the embrace of arms that made you Will surely destroy you It's time for your panic Then it kills and makes you manic Making its way inside—relax; it's all right Panic grips your frantic breathing I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe!