Lose Your Grip

The rope from which I'm hanging from It is thinning, short and worn I hope when I am reborn there are knives where should be arms

I know, I know, I know, I wrote this I will not be pushed around And so, and so, and so, I hope this makes you feel less overwhelmed Hand shakes in time, I'll take what's mines

Let me show you something my old friend A name now dragging in the dirt

I know, I know, I know, I wrote this I will not be pushed around And so, and so, and so, I hope this makes you feel less overwhelmed Hand shakes in time, I will take

Am I moving on or giving in? Can we end this conversation?