Counting hours turned to days I can't reclaim Praying for time to remain All these demands on my attention, all these appeals to my energy, I have nothing to give. Through the night I hear whispers calling my name. Oh, the comfort of safety is my shame. I am afraid I have nothing to offer, all of my strength is exhausted by the thought of it. Counting hours turned to days I can't reclaim Grieving for time thrown away Why is complacency the convention? I have conceded to apathy, paralyzed by inertia. Fear of failure breeds dissension between the ache that's inside of me and the weight of depravity.