I caressed a stranger in the tube
brushed my fingers across his

For a little second desperate I became
to  feel the human´s warmth

I wonder why God gave me this body  
that no one never touches

No-one will ever know
hiding behind a wall of lies is a weeping brother trying to sew the torn peices of his broken soul back together.
No-one will ever know
he's withering inside but still still trying to grow,
stretching his limbs for help but does anybody notice him there? No.

No-one will ever know
that screaming from behind a veil of make-up is a girl's dying soul.
Wrapped in pretty clothes
she's trying to break free of the hurt she feels inside
but they don't know.
No-one will ever know she's been tormented by her imperfections and failures
and although she tries not to let it show, it does
but does anybody pay attention? No.

No-one really cares
and they all do a good job at pretending not to see or not to know.
Instead of stopping to help
they turn a blind eye on conviction
and they just go.

I have decided that I am a no one
that I need no voice
no name
no face

Because I am now a no one
I don't need to look ok
I don't need to talk to anyone
That I don't need friends

And now that I am a no one
I can run away
I can sob in a corner
I can do what I want

Now I am a no one
so I can be selfish
and starved
and damaged

I am a no one
so I am alone
invisible
almost ugly

So, I have decided I am a no one

Threads of people winding by each other, clumping and then seamlessly slipping past.
I try to blend in but I feel like I’m too slow or too fast.
My skills at reading crowds are on the lower side.
Yet I love being in crowds, amongst so many you can hide.

People running everywhere, and I’ve nowhere to go
But that’s fine with me if these are people I don’t know
Their eyes slipping right past me, neither towards or away,
They simply disregard me, nothing warrants naught to say.

This is how I want it, yet I can’t help feeling that
It’s hard sometimes to be the one that everyone forgets
I don’t want that at all, now that I think about it more
For how could they forget me if they’d not seen me before?

It is a one night journey
from fulfilment to frustration
from hope to despire
from someone to no one
It takes just one night
to be a mystic...