You wake up feeling halfway even almost like you fit in this place, your conscience pleads the fifth.

Your memory like some orphaned son who keeps quiet around everyone.

You walk down sidewalks thinking forward then it’s back to the past, your lifetime’s just a myth.

Did it start when you were young, believing you could fool everyone?

It’s your own cruel addiction holding on to their suspicion, no one is who they say they are.

It’s all you know so it’s just become the way you are, broke down before it even starts.

You play with people’s feelings using them to fill in the cracks, running through your head.

Are you good enough for them, believing that you could fit in?

It’s your lack of intention becoming part of their invention, no one is who they say they are.

It’s all you know so it’s just become the way you are, broke down before it even starts.