I can only dream of walls that don't break down.
Another secret, another wall, another fight.
And it seems I have many, many walls.
Perhaps, it is a good thing though, that walls are not stone?
Why do I feel like I'm hiding in a pile of rocks?
And then I dig beneath me, because I realize its only glass.

Because of me, I'm a pushover, they all say.
I wish people would've taken me seriously, instead of turning me into roadkill.
But I guess I was always roadkill in your eyes.
Private school and boys ... but was it justified?
Now, yes, I'm giving you another chance.
You don't understand, and you never will.

When its all done and over though, I still have no regrets.
Anger has succumbed to the happiness, and I feel free again.
So strange how we find ourselves in sorrow.
Never wishing but receiving guilt in great multitude.
Dreaming of heavens and higher places all the while.
Finding life a new, clear slate for love to dwell.