My insecurities are shifting in my dreams,
I can't help but be worried about the pain that I bring upon myself.
Everyone is telling me, “What's the matter, you are perfect.”
Everyone is telling me that I should stop worrying.
But I can't help but panic inside,
I try, I try, I try to hoard these feelings inside.
But I am creating a surreal life,
I feel myself painting myself blind.
In this world, it's clear what is right and wrong,
but in my consciousness I don't know any more.
I feel myself become closer to you everyday,
but you are slowly drifting away.
Fantasy lives are everywhere, trying my hardest to stay alive,
but I noticed that I am faker than the world has ever known.
I've become digitally attached to my sorrow through bleeding ink.
I feel myself wanting to snap a doll's head off,
I just want to stop my mind from spinning around.
I am forever stuck in a maladaptive daydream,
where everything is fake except me moving.
[Stay Silent For Two Minutes]