Somewhere far from here, she's smiling.
She's trying to cover everything up so that she doesn't have to rely on other people for help.
I want to pray to a god that might not even be there that she's okay.
Somewhere not as far away, he's lying.
He's trying to convince me that he meant what he said, but I know it's not true.
Even though I know this, I slowly slip into his trap.
Somewhere near here, she's sleeping.
She's trying to hide the fact that her vision is slowly slipping away.
I want to tell her it's okay, she can admit it, but with him in the picture, it will never mean anything to her.
Somewhere not so far away, he's shaking.
He's trying to break the addiction; he turns to me for help that I don't know how to give.
He wants to stay strong but the need is so infuriating it is slowly driving him off the edge, and I understand.
Here, I'm staring at the knife in my hand.
I'm trying to avoid falling into the same old habits that haunt me.
I want my past to go away.