Laughing with the sinners;
Crying with the saints.
Everybody makes me out to be something I ain't.
Expectations imposed; lofty goals set in place.
No-one ever sees a frown on my face.
Too nice to say no, too self-conscience to answer why
I always have that blank look in my eyes.
Shake it off with a smile,
Make sure no-one's concerned.
Have to bear alone the burden which I've learned.
Easy to see, but hard to tell,
My world's in a hand-basket headed for hell.
Crying with the sinners;
Crying with the saints.
I guess we're all something we ain't.

Twist of the knife,
It hurts again.
Look down; the knife's in my hand.
Open my eyes and for the first time see
The scars and wounds all over me.
How did this happen?
I'm bleeding out.
Like the words of the dumb mine won't come out.
Screaming inside but no-one can hear.
In the sound of silence grows my fear.
Can I make it?
I've done it before.
Sew my wounds up as the tears hit the floor.
Hide my pain behind my lies.
Hope that I won't be betrayed by my eyes.
Windows to the soul, but who takes the time to see:
I keep getting hurt by my own worst enemy.