At The Worst Of Ends

If I should ever be so overcome
By darkness to allow myself to cry
Then I shall trace these old wounds with my thumb
Until my heartbeat falls and makes me high
If I should be found on the bathroom floor
Convulsing without my sense or reason
Then it would be better to lock the door
Rather than let me suffer fresh treason
But in the arms of a friend, or a few
I might be brought to peace for a brief while
If they whisper love and swear it's true
Corroborated by the softest smile
When I find myself at the worst of ends
I can rely on the help of my friends