No Saints

There are no saints - you're as safe as you make yourself. I've been blamed for blaming the blamed, so prove me wrong and find a human being who isn't insane. The saviors can't save themselves and I'm still taking advice from dead men. They suffer with pride and somehow still find more to smile for than I. Honestly, purely, bluntly confessional. I blame myself as you should but I know I had help, eager accomplices yet reluctant to send themselves to hell. They told us we'd only live once, and that seemed to be enough to ironically coerce us to replace love with lust. We embellished the truth to keep it convenient, we said just this once and then never again. Just once but now I think I'll walk this line just one more time. This is a problem of perception, like my free will and my predestination.I'm walking in circles and there's no one to warn me of the hole that I'm digging with every step that I take. The help that is offered is all too proudly turned down, I could stop myself if I tried, but that's too easy now. I know better than this, we know better than this. But the line between an idle hand and a masterpiece is a continent wide. A long journey while you're lifeless and losing your mind. I'm feeling younger and younger the more I deny, self medicating the impending truth that I hide. This fallacy I cling to, the idols I praise, are vowing to cut me down and to dance on my grave. I promise I'm breathing, I'll never consider suicide. Please, take me now, while I can't feel it, while I can't see anything but the inside of my eyes. This is what I'm missing, your heart is what I lack. I can't help but hope that I'll go in my sleep, before my heart is attacked. I'm consumed by the hatred of a cynic. I've been worshiping a life without you and ignoring the facts, and now the dead gods that I pray to are eating the meat off my back. Some say all real men, they lived on their feet, and the faithful were fools who died on their knees. But this attitude is resultless, with no one to blame but themselves. I don't have much left, save for hope and enough gas to get me home. I sacrifice this to ask you to show me something to make me smile.

Adjust me, and make me forget the numbers.