You tell me I'm free, but I feel trapped.
Deep down in a box, buried beneath the dirt.
You'r love is what truly made me free.
My mind blurs, I feel the chemicals burn in my veins.
It's all that makes me feel anything, but hatred and an urge to bleed.
And urge to feel some form of enlightenment, some form of freedom.
What would it mean if I left?
What would it change?
Fading now, the chemicals are taking affect.
"I love you!" The memories flow, I can hear your voice.
Is it too late to change myself?
Too late to come back from the blur that is my vision?
More mistakes are all I can make.
Do you still love me?
Can you make me free?
