Two parts nothing

"Im working on living Im working on leaving Im working on leaving the living." You keep your cold hands folded in your lap then raise them up to beg for scraps. You know he's holding you down with the tips of his fingers just the same. Will you be plucked from the ocean but just a minute too late. Or changed by a potion to seperate all the hate. We got equal parts of both. You'd be damned to be one of us girl Chasing that sound in your ear drum. I thought I should just die, but nothin happens everytime I try.