How much of myself am I?
Under these lines I write, how much is true, how much is you?
It's become blurred, my dreams, my wrongs, my lies, my mind, my time, your time, your lines, my heart, my chemicals, your chemicals, pharmaceutical chemicals to control our chemicals, the air, I have no air, I can't breathe, what's going on?
You slip through my eyes when I cry, I slip through myself when you're in. So many apologies to pursue, how could anyone see me when it's you screaming with my voice?
How much of myself is me? How much of it is you?
Who would I be without you?
How can I live without you? How can I be with you?
When will I be without you?