Sitting on the bed, or lying wide awake,

there's demons in my head and it's more than I could take.

Think I'm on a roll, but I think it's kinda weak,
Saying all I know is I gotta get away from me.

Y báñate en mis ojos, que se joda el mar, que quiera mecerte a su antojo.

Si no somos nadie, a nadie va a encontrar.
Y si a las heridas quiere echarles sal, sólo va a encontrarse cerrojos,
y las cicatrices de la soledad.

This is outta control, it could never last.