I'm afraid of losing you
I'm afraid that I already have
I'm afraid that if I never had you
I'd fade away from day to day
In a consistent stream of apathy
I'm afraid of the dryness in my throat
every morning at five am
I'm afraid of the cigarette between my fingers
an hour later
I'm afraid of the quivering in my hands
When I run out of coffee
I'm afraid of my closet
I'm afraid of the sizes in my clothes
I'm afraid of the way my friends think
I'm afraid that they don't think at all
I'm afraid of the drugs in their cabinets
I'm afraid of the drugs in their veins
I'm afraid of the silent pain that is too often
conveyed in a stranger's eye
I'm afraid of the people I work for
I'm afraid that they don't know how to love
I'm afraid of love
I'm afraid of my bedroom
I'm afraid of every man who's slept in it
I'm afraid of the people who
don't have the things they need
Equally afraid of the ones that have everything
They want
I'm afraid that nothing out here is right
I'm afraid that I made it that way
And I'm afraid that this fear
Just isn't enough to make me change my ways