I'm tired of walking through these hallways, shaking hands with familiar strangers. They're passing by on empty days, they're chasing dreams I'll never have. And I could easily live without…

But in growing older day by day, the dreams I have are peeled away. Like flakes of skin until it hurts like hell. It hurts like hell. And they are lost without a purpose. And this torn that is stuck in my head has grown to be a part of me. I'm in a constant state of discontent. Worn out by the weight of this disappointment. There's a tune in my head that resonates. I hear the chords to a song that will never be heard, I hear the words that might never be screamed. And somewhere I still remember how it could all fit together, how we'd all feel the same. And we're all to blame.

And I no longer feel like we all feel the same. I feel we're all to blame. Now there's this distance as large as life between myself and I that never felt closer. So close that I can touch it. And I can't hold it back, it's stronger than me. I feel a loner in these hallways among strangers I spend half my life with. Finding purpose in empty dreams that I can not relate to. So I'm thinking of times when my dreams were ahead. And I didn't have to look back all the time. Maybe I didn't live, didn't live fast enough to catch up with the man I intended to be. And I'm stuck with a me who came but as far as a “once could be”.

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