We are tired. So very very tired. Everything feels like a waste of time And our minds feel tired. Our bones won't respond. Their eyes look bored And the train of thought has paused. Everything feels so insufferable, Nothing feels new or true anymore.
This kind of tired Was born in us. And somehow it has tangled its way Around our hearts. The dreary days come from years Of waking to the same Numb dumb feeling in our smiles. We feel motion sickness in our hands From writing all these bubblegum dreams Knowing that our reality Will never be as sweet As the dreams that come from sleep.
It's the tragic trend of the generation That spent so long overthinking That they figured it all out. Now our anxious minds feel the tired From knowing the illusion has reached the credits. There's no reset button, And we're too poor to drown in the dust Of the bones of those from before. So we'll stay tired And drown in bittersweet fallacies Waking and hating The haunting reality.
Dreams just have such a glossy tint that makes them feel so much more welcoming than this harsh reality that we are trapped in