Scapegoat Wets the Whistle

I wouldn't mind being alone, if I could find a way for me to not be there. I just can't shake me. Bled being dry dry, a weight that broke my neck. Back to an unhealthy habit(at). Back. You know that "message in a bottle"?
Well I had to drink to get it out. I still can't decipher the code. There's so much more to shout about. I hate it when I breathe; I hate it when I'm me. I thought I could take a break.

Don't you have more to shout about?
Is that what made us friends?
Is that what made me okay? Is that all there was to me? Back. And its a shame we view this as a loss of faith, or loss of trust. We've got all this time, but we've got no lives.