The idea that we have in our heads, the notion that we've always held: Turned around and switched over.

Oh for fucks sake, what do I have to do ?
The answer is always nothing.
But anxiety gets the best of me
And the need for nothing
Turns into a desire for something.

Ugly spaces
Rotten cores
Dire Destruction
Perhaps life.

I have them too you know?
Non chalantness can only pretend for so long
I have them too
And they're dying to come out
Dying to live.
I think it is somewhat dire
That you had to try to die in order to live.

No one asked for this,
Who would have?
All the internal scrunch
And the mental fuck.
Nobody thought that a feeling
That was meant to mean happiness
In turn would bring bitterness;
A bitterness that clings onto you like a
Leech.

The answer, the means to an end,
Is to pretend.
Feign your smiles
Because no one wants to know
That that constant smile
Can often times be broken;
It is better for them to think
Of eternal sunshine.
than of changing skies.