Lirieke: Finger Eleven. Tip. Quicksand.

Slow sinking feeling kills the mood you're conveying
and it pulls me far down below
it might be best if you go
can it not wait and hope for the best
will it not stop a while to rest
i need to get up never mind cause i've done enough

the world waits around
but i keep slipping and losing ground
do i not try so hard so good
i can't keep changing just because you think i should

said all i need to and you don't understand still
wish you saw picture my mind's eyes are deep
and they're cynical
one taken four more kills the pain healing that sore
i've taken what's left i took it all
and now you won't let me forget

the world waits around
but i keep slipping and losing ground
do i not try so hard so good
i can't keep changing just because you think i should

stop you're talking down
i lack the strength to sit or stand
i lost my self confidence in the quicksand

not now or ever
sink slowly my treasure