I don't know what to say to them.
All they do is distort my own view.
All they do is try to condemn
My own world that I've created through you.

How could they know what I haven't said?
How could they share what they don't understand?
It makes me want to stop wishing I was dead.
But at the same time, to wish I was under command.

One that's not my own, because when I'm free to my own self,
I reveal too much.