how unlucky Some people's cells are made of life but they're not blessed to live And some of us, are forced to talk and smile and shine and walk and appear -I want to disappear- and dance and pretend and again and again and-
All we want to do is fly or die It's pretty much the same thing How unfair
Can't find happiness; I looked for her in the empty roads Asking strangers was kind of difficult and frustrating I shouted her name a thousand of times She kept her eyes down She put her hands in her ears She doesn't want to hear nor visit nor live anywhere near I don't blame her She has other things to do Walking tragedy isn't one of her favorite