“I want to find something I’ve wanted all along somewhere I belong.”

I’ll face myself to cross out what I’ve become, erase myself, and let go of what I’ve done.

And when you’re feeling empty, keep me memory, and leave out all the rest, leave out all the rest.

The 2000s were full of baggy pants and colored hair.

I know I’ll never trust a single thing you say. You knew your lies would divide us, but you lied anyway. And all the lies have got you floating up above us all. But what goes up has got to fall

I tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter. I had to fall to lose it all, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter.

Crawling in my skin these wounds, they will not heal. Fear is how I fall confusing what is real.

I want to find something I’ve wanted all along, Somewhere I belong.

Things aren’t the way they were before, you wouldn’t even recognize me anymore. Not that you knew me back then, but it all comes back to me in the end.

The hardest part of ending is starting again.

Everything you say to me takes me one step closer to the edge, and I’m about to break.

It’s harder starting over, than never to have changed.

Sometimes beginnings aren’t so simple, sometimes goodbye’s the only way.

I felt this way before. So insecure.

What goes up will surely fall and I’m counting down the time.

I have been able to tap into all the negative things that can happen to me throughout my life by numbing myself to the pain so to speak and kind of being able to vent it through my music.

It’s easier to run, Replacing this pain with something numb, It’s so much easier to go, Than face all this pain here all alone.

The measure of a man’s culture is the measure of his appreciation. We are ourselves what we appreciate and no more.

Man’s first law is to watch over his own preservation; his first care he owes to himself; and as soon as he reaches the age of reason, he becomes the only judge of the best means to preserve himself; he becomes his own master.

There is something splendid about innocence; but what is bad about it, in turn, is that it cannot protect itself very well and is easily seduced.

The eyes are the window of the soul.

The face is a picture of the mind with the eyes as its interpreter.

A madman’s ravings are absurd in relation to the situation in which he finds himself, but not in relation to his madness.

It is disgusting – Why must we have bodies?

Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance.