Return to Sender

It's no matter of point of view You stole me away just to pay your dues We've marked up our skin, but failed to feel again And exhausted the kicks of thrown paint cans I swear to God my intentions were pure But I was so afraid of less I couldn't handle more Great highs bring great lows And I will always choose the mountain over the moat So breathe in softly Turn your back, run away and get stoned I'll just sit here quietly And I won't feel at all I am searching for revival But there is nothing outside of me I can't keep feeding the delusion that the conclusion has yet to come I didn't see this coming How could I? I didn't see this coming How could I? How could I? How could I?