Won't pretend it's fine
So full of loss inside
An exhausted mind with nothing left to find

What's the point in ending what is someone else's joy?
Back the fuck off - and soon you will get yours

Who's to really say?
It's all a fucking game
No choice to make, what's gone is gone
We are not the same.

I won't pretend that it's fine
I'm so full of loss inside
An exhausted mind with nothing left to hide
What's the point in ending someone else's joy?

All secrets aside
Can't have no fucking pride
What's left to give? Someone please help me stop this mind.

The loss of all that I hold dear to me,
signifying the end of meaning.
Life: a hollow shell of false triggers in my brain shooting off one by one,
while everything I love turns to dust.

So who's to really fuckin' say?
It's just all a fucking game.
No choice to make, what's gone is gone

I won't pretend that I'm fine.

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