You say you live an ordinary life.
But who's the one that sharpened this knife?
Why do you insist on blocking my pain?
Why, why do you think that you're so sane?
No one knows the truth about you.
Yet deep down
I know too
And you said...
Where's the bleach that erases this stain?
Where's the pill to kill this pain?
Where's the blade to cut this vein?
Where's the odd, Where's the odd to eat this plain?
Where is your life?
Not the one hidden behind your mask.
And not the one you were sure would pass.
The real, the real life.
Walking down the street.
You're a garden, yet you're but a single rose.
A failing model.
Without a pose.
Showing everyone the new you.
When pieces of the old still remain.
Money and power couldn't change you.
You still have this burdened pain.
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