Emptiness is what’s best.
Emptiness is what’s desired.
Happiness goes and sadness comes.
But the emptiness just stays there.

Isn’t the predictability of that better than anything else?
Why should I risk being happy when I know it will end?
And when it does, oh how it’ll hurt
So tell me, why would I set myself up?

They don’t know what happened.
They don’t know what’s in my mind.
And yet they have the audacity to try and fix me.
They try to make the decision that is supposed to be mine.

For a time I stayed true to the person inside.
Then I gave in and for the sake of the people outside, I lied.
I pretended to forget and made a bubble of content.  
I turned a blind eye and when my demons came I peacefully slept

Then the nightmares came back and so did the paranoia.
But no one could know because then they would ask.
All those memories have to go, but for a while, I’ll keep them close.
I’ll allow my mind to be caressed by my old sinful friends that I want so much to be dead.

Later, when I bury them all, I’ll line the exterior of my soul with protective poison.
And inside? Well, there'll be absolutely nothing.
I’ll become empty, just as desired.
Unfortunately, I know that’ll leave room for the ghosts.