I can fake my identity and try to look happy,
but its all just a cover.
Take a swig from the flask and remove the last mask
only to find another.

There was once a time when I knew myself,
but now I'm not so sure.
All semblance of self-worth lay eroding in the dirt,
and its all thanks to her.

It's not really her fault, I'm truly to blame.
I grew selfish out of fear.
Afraid of being alone, I couldn't let her go
and now she's nowhere near.

I've been called a nihilist.
And I've been called cynical,
and from the outside looking in,
my problems may seem trivial.

But inside the storm is raging,
emotions are flaring.
Maybe I'm overboard.

Waters are churning,
tossing and turning.
I'm overboard.

So the next time you cast your stones,
forgetting about introspection,
just know that happiness isn't simply defined
except by our own perceptions.

Sing your praises on high
to long since deafened ears.

Build monuments to your sins
of all the bloodshed and tears.

From cultures wiped out
on your righteous crusades.

Just like the Druids
your religions will fade.

There are no gods to save you,
no one to hear your pleas.

So unclasp your hands,
get off your knees.

People need saving
yet we sit idly by.

Whispering to the clouds,
waiting to die.

It's such a strange feeling.
I wake up and I feel I'm already dead.
I struggle through the monotony of each day
remembering what it felt like to be alive.

The world passes me by
but I take little notice.
There is nothing of interest happening here.
I catch glimpses of what I think is you,
it never is.

I feel like I'm already buried.
The weight of loss crushing me.
I can't wait to sleep again.

I close my eyes
because in my dreams I know I'm still alive.
And so are you.

If only this parking garage
was just a bit taller.
And if the ground below
was just a bit harder.

Maybe then I could make an impact.

It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.

Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.

You all think you hide it so well,
but beneath your facade is a story to tell.
You keep it buried, you keep it a secret
but those who look close enough will always be able to see it.
Your eyes don't shine like they once did,
it's like you've gone numb from the outside in.
Blank orbs staring off at the distance
constantly wondering if they too miss us.

Don't call it a relapse.
Because I'm just getting started.
This next bowl of green goes out to all the brokenhearted.
I've been where you are
staring into the abyss.
Anything to fill the void
Always looking for the scripts.
I take a yellow for the blues
it'll kick in soon.

Feel the pain just fade away
and leave my mind in a haze.
This has become my every day.
I wish you all could feel this way.