When your whole existence is some sick charade, you get so ******* tired of the games they play.
Sometimes it gets better, but they never let you be okay.
Why does my life have to be a masquerade?
It seems everyone ends up being a renegade.

So how do I get up and try to feel something that’s mine?
I never knew it was so easy to run out of time.
So why am I always fearing my demise?
I guess it’s because for most of my life I’ve been mostly blind.

Friendly faces all around with ulterior motives.
All of this feels more or less erosive.
And I’m so far gone that I could care less about closeness.
The mess of my existence feels like a deep depth of the ocean.

So as I continue moving closer to the end.
I’ll stop hoping for a godsend.
Even though this mess was never truly only mine,
I’ll keep trying to make better use of my time.
While I keep trying to just feel.
Because there’s no way in hell I have it in me to fully heal.