And you sing a song of loneliness.
And you know you were wrong about happiness.
Someone caught you in the bushes.
And you sleep away these nightmares
until the moment may arrive.
You’ve become accustomed to your black hair
and all these problematic problems that keep you alive.

And you’re not so sure
What you’re doing all this for
And they can’t begin to understand
Until they see the skin
Beneath the palm of your hand

And you sing a song so delirious
That even it loses touch with happiness
You caught yourself in the rush
And you sleep through the flat lines
And the touch of the shock pads
They just don’t understand
You’re such a good kid
“Why’d you do this?
You never seemed too sad.”