Stuck in a life full of tragic
She wants to leave
And find her magic.
No, she’s not erratic.

Hides all her pride inside the attic
Of her mind
It's all just static
No, she's not dramatic.

She slips again, and starts to panic
She’s sinking fast
Like the Titanic
It’s just a habit, it’s automatic.
This isn't fairy tales that you read
It's ****** her dry she can't even bleed
She’s falling apart all over me.

She's in her room on the phone
Crying to me
That she's alone.
Her mind is stuck in traffic.

A pile of dreams under the bed
Once full of promise
Now torn to shreds, can’t admit it’s dead.

She tells me what she thought it would be.
Like it is on tv.
She’s no longer in the scene.
She picks it up right where she left it,
On the floor, she can't forget it.
This isn't magic.
This isn't habit.
This isn't tragic.
It's automatic.