They talk of adult life, I can hear it inside my own head, I might be so close, I might so far.
It’s all too confusing with this pressure I consume. I’m a child of practise, looking for the wrong way to do the right thing.
If this is what it takes all we know is how to escape. Just don’t tell me to wake up, I’m just that boy, the boy with the thorn in their sides.
I can hear them screaming my name, from the top of the stairs sweat drips from my brow, I try to live in hope, but when I bury my head and my hands start to shake I just can’t cope.
In the darkest times it all becomes so clear, in the darkest times idle youth disappears.
In desperate youth, darkness finds the wildest hearts, in a world of what Isolation and confusion starts.
How can I think when the world is listening? How can I see when the world is watching me? Do we wait and just live in regret? Do we move on and try to accept? Or do we wake up, and just fucking forget?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
