... because paper is to hard to find.

I saw my flesh cowering in an empty grave.
And it looked more than six feet deep.
I use to have angels for friends,
holding the rope to save my life.
At one point I saw joy in fire to my exit.
And now my angels have blisters from flames to their hands.

Is there an easy escape?
Is joy so far away?
I can't rely on you.
Because I have forgotten how.

And I saw my spirit dive head first in the ocean.
With no plans of coming back for air.
And my flesh began to gasp,
As my selfish soul went down for a deeper lap.
At one point I saw joy in cutting the tube to air.
And now my lungs have pnemonia from selfishness in flesh

Is there another way?
There has to be another way.
Because I don't know how to find you.
My soul is so much dead.