It's scary when your mumma cries, from watching your slow decline get faster and stronger, sees you lose all control, you know your pain is killing her. All reasoning's are gone now it's not just you, she looks you in the eye and says she just can't do this much any more, it's just not right, please give it a try. Little white saviours, I swear to you I don't need to be saved. Bruised knees, from begging you to let me walk away. Can I do this alone? Little, little, little, little, little whites. Can I do this alone? It's scary when you've got no choice, with the doctors and in your head that voice, telling you you're unstable but you're ok, they're bad for you as he signs away, a little piece of paper that could change your life, a script for a hundred of them little whites. A cold glass of water, they go down fine. At once you're addicted to the little white saviours. I swear to you I don't need to be saved. Bruised knees, From begging you to let me walk away. Can I do this alone? Little, little, little, little, little whites. Can I do this alone? It's scary when you sit in that chair and you plead to him that it is not working. Your lips start to tremble, your chest is tight, your mind isn't coping with the little whites. He writes on his paper says you need more time, a script for a hundred of them little whites. A cold glass of water they go down fine and you're still addicted to the little white saviours, I swear to you I don't need to be saved. Bruised knees, from begging you to let me walk away. Can I do this alone? Little, little, little, little, little whites. Can I do this alone? Can I do this alone? Little, little, little, little, little whites. Can I do this alone?