Ships sailed and winds have turned
Feels like millennials passed in a moment
I grasp at empty air, I can't face
My own face without any pretentious grace
I'm so predictable, I run and hide
And cower, I can't seem to find
My way out of these self made walls
Everywhere I go, my anxiety stands tall
And I'm afraid I'll never love anything
That I'll always want and never be free
Never be happy with what I own
Every pretty little thing will get old
I'll get buried under the things I crave
And find myself digging an early grave