The cup is not half empty as pessimists say
As far he sees nothing's left in the cup
A whole cup full of nothing for him to indulge
Since the voice of ambition has long since been shut upA singer, a writer
He's not dreaming of going nowhere
Gave heed to nothing
And all that he was is just a tragedy
So he voyages in circles
Succeeds getting nowhere
And submits to the substance that first got him there
In violent frustration
He cries out to God or just no one
"Is there a point to this madness?"
And all that he was is just a tragedy
He feels alone
Inside of his head he's alone
He feels alone
I feel...
Then on that last day he breaks
And he stood tall
And he yelled
And he yelled (WHY??)
And he takes his own life
In violent frustration
He cries out to God or just no one
"Is there a point to this madness?"
And all that he was is just a tragedy.
Sadly enough, I don't think I'm going anywhere. Just when you think things might be turning around for you (finally), you wake up from that comforting dream and face your grim reality that nothing. ever. changes.
