Songtexte Finalist - Touché Amoré

In February, I was put in fight or flight
My cortisol had climbed to Appalachian heights
I'm the shining prince of ambivalence
A gentle catalyst

Will I get used to this?
Will I get used to this?

Please have mercy on me
'Cause nothing's what it used to be
Grant me strength, some dignity
Spare me all your sympathy
As I adjust to me and only me

In solitary my demons exercise
Can I turn out the light, or will they multiply?
I'm a finalist for the childless
A subtle catalyst

Will I get used to this?
Will I get used to this?

Please have mercy on me
'Cause nothing's what it used to be
Grant me strength, some dignity
And spare me all your sympathy
As I adjust to me and only me

When waking up starts to feel
Like more of an expense
The grass will always be greener
When I'm sitting on the fence

At least I know myself enough
To shy from the buttons I could press
So I have to make this count
So I can put it all to rest
And not leave you in suspense

Will I get used to this?
Will I get used to this?