Every fucking day I have to deal with the pressure I put on myself, to outdo myself But I can’t ask for help, I can’t admit I’m weak I’m going back on my words, going back on who I used to be
Every day I wage a war on myself because I’d rather die than let this win over me I can’t let this win over me
How can I be expected to help anyone else, When I can’t even help myself? Call me a hypocrite, And I’ll be the first one to agree
I am no longer the prophet that I once claimed to be
And I’m stuck between trying to find where I stand, and what it is I stand for I am no one