Though my visits are so brief, you see me as more than a man.
A triumphent figure of past and present.
I'm So Tired. (And my thoughts turn into these words, my words turn into echos.)
It's funny how life works sometimes.
I've become the person I despise.
Everytime I see my reflection, I cry.
Find it hard to buy?
What could of been, Leading by example again.
I talked to God last night, I asked him, who the fuck am I?
I talked to God last night, I asked him who the fuck?