He never acknowledges the ticking time bomb that is heard in never-land
The youth giving out one last cry for help.
I feel my youth, persuasion, and intelligence draining from me by the hour.
I feel my pain come and go through the charade.
I'm a good sport,
And an even better actor.
I'm a bad liar,
And even worse lover.
Truth be told,
I wasn't meant for the life of love,
I am a caged bird, a sleeping beauty, a lost soul.
I hurt and I sing.
There is a part of me that still holds onto life,
That part that convulses in the night.
My dreams take me away and make me feel. Make me see.
Is it that hard to live like you?
Is it that hard to be real?