I Don't Feel Alive

Skin and bones, stomach aches
Lucid dreams, hold my breath when I'm wide awake
Connecticut, dissociate
Maybe I should buy a house in a town upstate

If I could, I'd wake myself up
When I am somebody that I'm proud of

I'm getting undressed for my lover
And praying she don't hate all my skin like I do
I'm reading books and drinking coffee
Stepping on a scale I keep in the bathroom
The water goes downhill, and still
I swim against the current with two arms that cannot fly
And I don't feel alive
No, I don't feel alive

Telehealth, TV episodes
Swallow seeds, but the fruit never seems to grow
Validate what I know
What I believe in and everywhere I wanna go

If I could, I'd wake myself up
When I am somebody that I'm proud of

I'm paying three different psychologists
Trying to remember who I told what story to
I'm writing feelings in a journal
'Cause that's what people who have their shit together seem to do
The water goes downhill, and still
I swim against the current with two arms that cannot fly
And I don't feel alive
No, I don't feel alive

I keep coming up for air
And ending up with water in my
I keep coming up for air
And ending up with water in my lungs

I'm learning how to set my boundaries
How to have compassion for myself and for my mind
I'm turning off my fuckin' cell phone
And trying to have honest conversations in real life
The water goes downhill, and still
I swim against the current with two arms that cannot fly
And I don't feel alive
No, I don't feel alive (I don't feel alive, oh no)

I keep coming up for air
And ending up with water in my
I keep coming up for air
And ending up with water in my (and I don't feel alive)
I keep coming up for air (no, I don't feel alive)
And ending up with water in my (and I don't feel alive)
I keep coming up for air (no, I don't feel alive)
And ending up with water in my lungs