Comfort Zone by Kenna Marie Lyrics
Keep sweeping, no residue
Mania driving me to overuse the vacuum going over old stains
Expecting them to lift, ignorance is bliss
Removing the plug maybe these circuits will become dead. Empty the bag there’s no dirt or dust... because I do this too often
There’s no need, but I “have” to clean up the mess that happens to be me. I’m on the floor. No! My brother can’t find me like this no more. I have to stop. I can’t control my everything so I cleanse the environment so I don’t get spun at the bottom rung. Can I ever climb up? Rhetorical question... I’ll stick to being busy in these four walls
Sticking to what I know; my comfort zone
My comfort zone, my comfort zone. Being busy in these four walls, sticking to what I know. My comfort zone, my comfort zone
The hum of the suction wants me to join... I’d taint that empty bag with my cold embrace
Me welcomed by something that functions? What? Better offer than what I’ve gotten before. Rotting inside out, I’m spewing. There’s nothing left to ruin, its ruined
Scrubbing away at the truth
It’s a clusterfuck of confusion. My chores aren’t always so specific; it’s really just a gimmick to keep my internal and external at bay. At bay. At bay. I’m not easily swayed. No guarantee today that’ll change not overnight. I can tell you that much and I can tell you that much and I can tel you that much. This stuff corrupts making me feel materialistic as fuck. I put my house above my heart and just realized my house is just a dome I wish I had a clone
The hum of the sunction wants me to join. I’d taint the empty bag with my cold embrace
Me welcomed by something that functions? Better offer than what I’ve been getting, rotting inside out I’m spewing. Nothing left to ruin, its ruined. Scrubbing away at the truth. It’s a clusterfuck of confusion. Of confusion. Of confusion
Mania driving me to overuse the vacuum going over old stains
Expecting them to lift, ignorance is bliss
Removing the plug maybe these circuits will become dead. Empty the bag there’s no dirt or dust... because I do this too often
There’s no need, but I “have” to clean up the mess that happens to be me. I’m on the floor. No! My brother can’t find me like this no more. I have to stop. I can’t control my everything so I cleanse the environment so I don’t get spun at the bottom rung. Can I ever climb up? Rhetorical question... I’ll stick to being busy in these four walls
Sticking to what I know; my comfort zone
My comfort zone, my comfort zone. Being busy in these four walls, sticking to what I know. My comfort zone, my comfort zone
The hum of the suction wants me to join... I’d taint that empty bag with my cold embrace
Me welcomed by something that functions? What? Better offer than what I’ve gotten before. Rotting inside out, I’m spewing. There’s nothing left to ruin, its ruined
Scrubbing away at the truth
It’s a clusterfuck of confusion. My chores aren’t always so specific; it’s really just a gimmick to keep my internal and external at bay. At bay. At bay. I’m not easily swayed. No guarantee today that’ll change not overnight. I can tell you that much and I can tell you that much and I can tel you that much. This stuff corrupts making me feel materialistic as fuck. I put my house above my heart and just realized my house is just a dome I wish I had a clone
The hum of the sunction wants me to join. I’d taint the empty bag with my cold embrace
Me welcomed by something that functions? Better offer than what I’ve been getting, rotting inside out I’m spewing. Nothing left to ruin, its ruined. Scrubbing away at the truth. It’s a clusterfuck of confusion. Of confusion. Of confusion