Another year living, another day gone,
The past isn't giving the wisdom I want.
I'm searching for answers, I lay in the rain, I stare at the moon while I'm begging for change.
My face is now creased, from years of worry, I laugh at my young wish to grow up in a hurry.
The right answers never come, I grieve over wrong choices, I'll stay in my bed berated by these voices.
And it's October, but the leaves are still green, the seasons aren't seasons and I am not me.
Twenty seven I might be, but fourteen I still feel, I look at the life I've built but none of it seems real.
Happy Birthday to you, they shout in my room, but it's just a Friday, and I'm losing my youth.