I'm sorry that I'm not quite being myself I started off like me but ended up someone else I'm sorry that I never really work on myself It's not that I don't try it's just sometimes, well nothing helps And how much time do we really have, to count our steps before the motion sets itself And what do you forget when you go to bed? So few things make it worth the hell of being a person
We are alone but time makes it okay We've stolen our homes, but would still like to be saved So where is our hope? Or when do we get paid? 'cause I've been so broke