For the past days, I've been talking to the moon.
I have asked her, "Oh dear, how soon?"
Free me from my chains, free me from my home,
Allow me again to wander, allow me to roam.

But the other end of the escape has been little scary,
Thinking about it just makes me worry.
Even the supposed sunrise I may meet,
Became a sunset blinding the ways of my feet.

The day I have feared has come,
No more place to call home, I'm done.
Both ends have become really thought prisons,
I see my end with the hue of crimson.

On your own, you think you are,
Your mind travels so, so far.
But you don't know which way to go,
Peace of mind, you're just begging so.

Every flip means death,
A burial you set yourself.
There's no escaping hatred,
Just smile, put on a show, and pretend.