I give blood to prove to myself that I can matter to somebody else.
Is what makes a man the dirt on his hands?
If so, don't put you're faith in the dessert sand,
because the wind is always blowing
There are gallows deep inside my lings, that's where I hung ambition
Is it luck that's knocking right on my back door?
Because I've been breaking mirrors since 1984
I walk under ladders, I spill salt on sores
and I open my umbrella even when I am indoors
So give me seven more
I give blood not for the cause but to slowly give up the person I was
Holding my breath won't help, everything went to hell
So now I steal back pennies from the well because my wishes failed
I am screaming at my own shadow to stop living like a ghost
I don't need her I'm not that desperate
Come visit me in twenty years and maybe then
cause I'm not done screaming yet
you can call off the intervention, I don't need your attention
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