i wish i wasn't aware of myself most of the time
cause what good comes from all this hating and hurting
and struggling to mime
who i wish i was but who i'll never be

i can keep on pulling a dark jacket over my head
and walking in two lines
but no matter what i always end up here in bed
not sleeping, not crying, not dreaming
just listening to my own rehearsed lines

and in the morning when i wake up
i'll feel fine until it's time to get dressed again
and i'll see the veins in my arms and remember them opening
and i'll see that the hair over them is fine and white,
because no matter how hard i try
i'll never be who i think i am

i might dream when i fall asleep
about that man who i could have been
but i'll wake up again
wishing i hadn't
and thinking about how i can stop the sunrise from shining in from outside
without making it sink below the horizon every day