I address a lot of people,
And a lot of strangers,
To them I tell stories about a promised world,
Yet I never reveal the secret of it all,
Cause I don't really know, myself.

Whether it's heaven or something we make,
I just want the peace of mind that I'm not alone in this,
Hard to speak your mind when your mind is clogged up.

I'm trying to figure it out- what's the purpose of it all?
But I've noticed that the purpose becomes worthless when you compare yourself,
If the drawings in my notebook were ever to be sold, I would make not a cent because- as I'm told by my head- everyone's better than me,
So let the purpose be worthless and pave your own world,
The path has never been set, you're walking a grassy road that hasn't been trodden just yet.

Whether it's heaven or something we make,
I just want the peace of mind that I'm not alone in this,
Hard to speak when your mind is clogged up.