Before a story is ever continued
It must fully begin
My life has been confusing
Because of this
I never know how to explain my own story

Look out my window
There's a lifeless frame in the streets
As disturbing as the truth
The violins make their dark tremble
The walls talk to me in whispers
But always wish to scream
They just sit and stare
As cold as that frame

I'm drifting along the streets
Ignoring the cars and the people around
There's a beauty to loving yourself
And embracing sadness at the same time