They claim your role is to act
and mine is to follow,
but it is really like that?

I crave for the survival of myself,
my will is the will to keep living
that makes fight all living beings.

Your hunger is proof you live;
your beating heart in front of fear is proof you live;
my act is the proof of life and the will to perpetuate it.

You instead lost your will
in the name of chains that bound you
and that you yourself keep intact.

You are bound by what is around you;
you are bound by expectations and duties;
you are bound by the desires that control you.

I embrace feeling, while you forgot it.
I embrace act, while you keep stalling.
I embrace living, while you consider it painful.

So, honestly,
between you and me,
can you really tell who is the machine?

In the morning,
when I clean for my duties,
when I go to the car from the table,
I look in the mirror and see a man that wants to be respectable.

In the afternoon,
when I chat with my friends,
when we finish to play,
I look in the mirror and see a man that loves those filling his days.

In the evening,
when I ask if there is a point,
when I remain blocked despite my scrolling,
I look in the mirror and see a man that prays to feel something.

Who's the reflection and who's real?
Is one true or a mask that lies?
Am I one, all or none of them?
I don't know the answers, maybe I am to condemn.

I dreamt of joy.
I dreamt of achievments.
I dreamt of feeling proud.
I dreamt of happiness.
Nights that reborned in a new day,
I dreamt of cherishing helding high;
I dreamt of the future.

I dream of sadness.
I dream of failure.
I dream of pressure.
I dream of rage.
Nights that are stagnant and rotten,
I dream of tiredness yet not act;
I dream of the past.

I dream of uncertainty.
I dream of confusion.
I dream of my destruction.
I dream alone.
Nights that I am blocked,
I dream of giving up for that is what I deserve;
I dream that I dreamt.