| Thirteen times I went to the well |
| To draw my thoughts, I’ll gather and tell |
| Like bricks that I’ve laid to build my life |
| Those that crumbled only caused me strife |
| Thoughts became words, cast into the sea |
| But they returned, always haunting me Like a severed arm washed up on the shore |
| I just don’t think I can give anymore |
| Because I’ve lived, how many times do I have to die? |
| Because I’ve lived, how many lives do I have to die? |
| Thirteen times and it’s been lucky for me After everything, you still want me to bleed |
| Thirteen ways to see the devil in my eyes |
| Because I stood here thirteen times and I’m still alive |
| At thirteen I started down this path |
| Fueled with anger, music was my wrath |
| Years of clawing at scars that never healed |
| Drowning my mind, the thoughts are too real |
| I can’t get out; I can’t jump out |
| Too much to face; I can’t erase |