These hands are broken and calloused, but nobody seems to notice.
And you yelled it into permanence.
Have you ever come to hate the very thing
That you helped to create?
Cause that’s how I feel everyday
I am expendable, but I guess that’s just the way things go.
I’m a ghost in foreign postal codes losing
Faith in what brings you hope.

On the outside looking in
Or on the inside sitting in the corner. It’s all the same to me.
I got my hopes up. I thought I was out of the shadows.
But I’m buried six feet underneath what
I worked four years to achieve.
While they were sleeping.
While you were sleeping
I am expendable, but I guess that’s just the way things go.
I’m a ghost in foreign postal codes
Losing faith in what brings you hope.

Home alone where all of my doubts are born.
Home alone where all of my fears are formed
I’m sick and tired of hating who I’ve become
It’s getting worse every day I spend home alone
Writing myself to death stands in place of sleep.
I am an unlocked door and you’re a fucking thief
You could hear me out, but why would you care?
No, why would you care at all?