All laid out in front of me, a clutter left unturned As I start to write the reasons which are none of your concern Conjure up the confidence to admit the truth This burden hanging over me in my disparate youth Yet I'm still a tragic so I'm told Settled on the font but it seems too bold That's why I'm still writing These letters to myself All of these questions never help Why's it always morning when I start to fall asleep? As I watch the morning light crawl in and nestle at my feet Would you mind the mess I've made in my head? Cause when I turn it up, it doesn't seem like anybody cares Yet I'm still a tragic so I'm told Settled on the font but it seems too bold That's why I'm still writing These letters to myself All of these questions never help First, I start to second guess The third and fourth were re-addressed in these In these letters to myself All of these questions never help First, I start to second guess The third and fourth were re-addressed in these letters First, I start to second guess The third and fourth were re-addressed in these letters to myself