I tried my best to keep quiet,
To keep my head held down,
To wear a smile and pretend I'm fine,
To convince the world around me
That I'm not sick and tired of being afraid
Of waking up and having to live another day trapped in these surroundings
With a permanent mask sewn to my face.
Sometimes I feel like I'm dead to this world,
Like I faded out years ago, but I will not let the rain wash me away.
"Dear father this is all I have."
I know it's not much, but at least it's something.
Underneath the skin, behind the dirt and grime,
Hides a lost scared kid, a forced fed child,
From a broken home with no place else to go.
Left out to dry in the bitter cold.
We keep our heads buried beneath the sheets, sins pushed under our beds.
Skeletons living in our closets, cold breath fogging up the pains of glass.
We all have our fears, they stay carved in our minds,
Keeping us from sleep, keeping us from moving on.
Sometimes I feel like my purpose on this earth
Is to be a never ending example,
A constant display of what it's like to constantly fail.
"Dear mother, this is all I have."
I know it's not much but at least it's something.
This is my life in black and white.
I can't say I love it, but at least it's better than nothing
They call it a gift, make of it what you will.
Once the chord is cut and the basket is filled the nightmare begins.
We all have our fears, they stay carved in our minds,
Keeping us from sleep, keeping us from moving on.
They call it a gift, make of it you will,
So precious, so innocent, so clean, so frail.
Once the chord is cut and the basket is filled, the story begins.
As the pages pile up, the more the weight that weighs down
And there's only one way out.
Straight through hell.