I can see the stars,
Flying overhead,
There must be something that I can say,
To get myself to come to life and fall into the sky,
But the cement at my feet has held me there,together,
There’s nothing I can do,
But watch the stars become rockets as they fly overhead,
They like to breach my personality,
Cause I know I’m not right,
I already fight with myself every day of my week.

Could I make it?
Could I be a shapeshifter?
Could I fake it?
Could I be a shoplifter?
I don’t think so.

My deadened and black dreams like to come back to life and taunt me in my nightmares,
The sea seems so far as the I’m plagued with my fears,
Don’t doubt for a moment that I won’t make it there,
My life is just as empty as the next guy ahead,
Who’s made to the sea,
But he falls off the cliff,
I know my fate at last,
As I fall into the salty rocks below.

Could I make it?
Could I be a shapeshifter?
Could I fake it?
Could I be a shoplifter?
I don’t think so.

Could I make it?
Could I be a demon?
Could I fake it?
Could I be a sermon?
I don’t think so.
I know that so.
I don’t think so.
I know that so.