In the real world
     I am merely a passerby.
Finding no home to call my own.

I walk the dusty ***** streets
                  So lost and all alone.
Why then should it be this way?
Is this the modern way of life?
   Am I to always suffer loneliness
        A life beset by doubt.

This isn't living
This is dying
Everybody is craving
For either leaving
Or staying

You wake up
And try to make up
A reason to stay up
Which probably is to break up
The responsibilities', built up

You beg for mercy
And try convince yourself that you're worth it
But you know, you're feelings, you wrap it
Wrap it away to keep it
And to hear it