Seven Stressors (feat. Copiasonic)

Stressors test your ability to listen.

A spiral of head scars stretch to the stars,

And keeping me from lifting,

Above a thought loop.

Destructive patterns and the thoughts scoop,

The positive right out of the spots that live in my mind.

Are these problems real or not, become so hard for me to find.

And whether I can solve them or not,

Shouldn't be taking up all of this space and time.

A sacred line, could be enough to lift me past it.

But I'm scraping through the muck,

Chasing these patterns deeper down the rabbit hole.

I try to tackle it as a whole.

It's bad I know,

But the dark seems to provide that glow.

The spark I need is parked beneath a barking sea of stark beliefs.

I start to breathe.

The scars they cease to be.

Returning from the stars and releasing me to a place of observance.

Where I begin my learning.

Even though the thoughts are forever in there churning.

I breathe a couple more times.

Breathe observe and listen

Breathe observe and listen

Breathe observe and listen

That truly is your sacred line

Breathe observe and listen

Breathe observe and listen

Breathe observe and listen.