How many times will I lie and say I'm fine?
Put a smile on my face and pretend I'm alright.

No one knows the difference. I'm too good to fail.
Who will see through the mask? See that I am frail.

I'm so afraid to ask for help. Too proud to tell the truth.
Yet I want so badly to try. But I'm far too hesitant to move.

Every lie just piles up with the others. Always bringing me down.
I feel like the king of sorrow. The scars inside are my crown.

I wish someone would find me here and pull me from this hell.
I wish I wasn't so proud and afraid. All I want to do is yell.

I'm not sure where to turn anymore, and I honestly don't care.
I hate my own apathy. I'm so tired of the fact that I'm scared.

But oh, how I lie. I pretend that I'm still fine.
As if no pain surrounds me. Truth is, I wish I could die.

Where does the night go to cry in New York City
Whose finger print is that upon the moon*
Who kisses the stars and shows them pity
To the forever distant tune

Whose selling souls in the land of plenty
Backing out on promises they've made
Buying the beggar off with no more than pennies
While spitting on the unmarked graves

Who gives a voice to the silence
Where does memory turn when it forgets
When the strong ones fall who picks up the pieces
Where do the dying place their bets

If the fool reaches for the hand of wisdom
At that moment does he cease to be a fool
If the night could hear, would it even listen
*And would it stop crying if it knew