I just want to find out who I am,
never meant a thing to any man, I want a friend.
But if you ask them I’m sure they’ll lie,
don’t wanna be the reason I don’t survive.
I wanna be a part of people’s lives, but
I do better by myself, but I’m not so sure what better is,
Or what happiness can be. I’m not good at things I want,
better at what I’ve got, or better at nothing,
since that’s what I’ve got. Maybe it’s a lie
or maybe it’s true, all the same though when you’re not sure about life.
Is there beauty in that though? I mean there’s beauty everywhere.
I’m unhappy here but there’s still happiness here. I want
my own special life, but no insult to the simplistic, so I
hide my tears behind the glitter on my eyes, so you
couldn’t tell that this isn’t what I’d choose.
Then it’s easier to take, ’cause if I don’t choose it,
it’s embarrassing that this is all I could make.
But I still hear them tell me
to think about the times I would’ve died,
try to think of reasons God wants me to survive,
but if they took so many great ones,
should I even want to live?
Only alive to insult all the greatness they did.
And does it even matter what we do when we’re here?
I guess no is easier anyway, but then
there’s no point at all, I should just end it today.
And then that’s the biggest point of all,
no matter what color it is, I’ll always be blind, and so
I’ll never be happy, even on the other side. There’s no
cure they say, but maybe it could. We should all be done.
Don’t wanna promote death but is there any life left?
Even if I’m dead it’s all the same, I’m insane,
and at least when I’m dead I’m no longer to blame.