Those voices in my head which are merciless to me
Of late are coming from your mouth

I can know all that is wrong with me sans your help
What is wrong with me is written with the debris of dumb decisions and failed plans stretching back to birth

I read my own map all the time, cursing my wrong rights and lefts
I have access to the horrors of me that you’ll never know

But I’ll ride elevators above
the me made petty
Above the dread at the sound of a car door slam

A chain, this chain stops now with me