Holding onto a memory, A memory that bruises me; Three-Six-Nineteen, I’m recovering I wanted to throw my hands up and say I’d had enough, The flowers and tears broke me Eighteen to twenty-one, Down on luck, For myself, I had no love
Step by step, I found my feet again, Why run before I could walk? Overcome by the pressure, I felt It would be better; After, I chose to hang onto the ladder Did you read Recovery? Writing it really helped me Nine-Twelve-Twenty-One, I made it if you ask me, Every year’s another I’ve won