W.B. House

It seems to be too difficult to be what I image.

Things you can't do will not show up instead.

Out of voices, out of strength.

The shovel you take isn't enough to dig the grave you laid.

They live so well, so sweet you wish.

And they told you how to do but don't understand.

 

The pain retain, the only real feeling left.

But more real it is will bring up more bills to pay.

So you pray instead, for all the wishes in the list.

Wishes all the best will go crystal clear.

Make sharps, stay alert, for those you already forgot.

And at the end of the day, laid down to the chair.

Even the pain at back comes in front to you shit face again.

 

So another day asleep, another day awake.

Dig down, dig deep to find nothing replaced.

Resetting your mission, requesting permission,

Remembering all you did last day was a total mistake.

That you never see it tears you apart every single day.

 

Suffocating day, choking all ahead.

You bring up masquerade

Your tear's gone all the way.

Suffocating day, choking all ahead.

The dream you live will never end

Cuz they'll never be aware.