Ask me in the night,
How I am feeling?
I’ll still tell you I’m alright,
But part of me won’t want to.

You see there’s this ache
Somewhere inside
Telling me to push it out, to make it escape.
It won’t go.
There’s no point passing it around
It only ever makes people leave.

Yes, right, okay:
Maybe I am delusional, deceptive
And, it’s all my wrong idea
But that still doesn’t make it fine.
Why shouldn’t we worry that our own damage
Will be someone else’s collateral?
Do you not think I’m aware?
Maybe I’m not still naive.

If you’ve come here for the truth,
Then I am coping just fine,
In fact it was better than ever
And all blue skies.
That’s also probably the reason why
People don’t realise.
If you’re around when I’m like this,
If you’re in the way of my state
And there’s nothing left to do,
Then I won’t bother to hide it from you.

Actually, I hate to admit it,
But I’d probably go all out in making sure you knew,
Because what else is there to do?
Where’s the point? Even if you told me where it was, I’m not sure I’d go find it.

But if someone new walks in,
If it’s someone presenting opportunities;
A meaning.
I follow through with that instead,
I get on with it and then afterwards,
When I’m alone,
I close my eyes and remember what I was feeling the last time I pushed it aside
And I dissolve into it
Because I’m back to not caring,
I’m back to believing in how bad I feel
And maybe I don’t mind.