They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
And sorrow is in the heart of the sufferer.
But as I grow weary and older,
With the weight of the world on my shoulders,
I often stop to wonder,
Is this life the same for me as it is for the others?
Do they feel the pain that flows through me?
Or do they look on in wonder?
Are you proud to be my friend?
Or will you turn on me in the end?