costing
reducing
you spin so much your life trying to appeal to others that
you loose track of'll you really are
And a puppet of other people's expectations and you lose sight of what you really wanted.
You know, this surreal conformity leaves you hollow, a shell of who you used to be.
A voyer shadow staring in at the flames and wondering what makes their minds tick.
In some you can see a spark of potential.
If you're only given a kindling, that's not what they want.
They don't want lots of individual little flames, they want one big controllable bonfire.
That's about to burn itself out.
And some of us have been trying, but at some point you just gotta sit back, watch it burn and realize it's not your fight anymore.
So what do you do?
Seriously, what do you do? I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't.
You know, you keep on living, I suppose. I mean, what else can you do? What else is there?
So you're meant to keep on living, but you aren't really living, are you?
You know, survival is hardly living, and you're not really happy.
I mean, maybe you are by and by, but there's a hole in your heart, a void in your life.
And it eats away at you, it consumes you, until all that's left is a ghost, a mirage, an echo of reality.
Until all you are is just smoke in the wind.
