One expects a fight
A struggle
And besting bitter foes, to gloat and grin
In newfound strength
But no, that's not it
It's gently rising out of hibernation
Scuffling out of the cave
And noticing
That thing isn't giving me the thrill it used to
That thing isn't giving me the thrill it used to
Stepping into the new rooms
I find each one progressively more pleasant than the last
I was worried about losing some happiness that I'd never got
It was weighing heavy on my mind when I noticed
That thing isn't giving me the thrill it used to
That thing isn't giving me the thrill it used to
That thing isn't giving me the thrill it used to
That thing isn't giving me the thrill it used to

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