Each day I say the same thing,
Every day I tell the same lie,
There's only one song this bird can sing,
And it's less of a song than a cry.

A cry of agony and hurt,
Escaping from a person full of pain,
Somebody who's been left in the dirt,
And is slowly going insane.

Insanity is a comfort,
A way to escape it all,
A way to tone down the hurt,
And take me out of a freefall.

A freefall of confusion and mistakes,
That make me think too much,
Thoughts turn from puddles to lakes,
And depression follows as such.

Thinking makes me sad,
Because all I think of is her,
And when times weren't so bad,
Because there wasn't pain to conquer.

A pain that runs my life,
And makes me do something so vile,
A pain that cuts like a knife,
And makes me wear a fake smile.