Rose Glasses

Promise me that depression passes
No longer seeing through rose-colored glasses
I can't tell my parents they'll say "It's a phase."
They don't know, I've numbered my days
It's marked on my calendar, a day in September
Traced in red pen, so I will remember
I'm not saying it's definetley set
I just wrote it down in case I regret,
Regret living my life while hiding my face
Knowing that an Angel could come take my place
I don't think it's set in stone
So if I call pick up the phone.