The Vanishing Act

After the lights go down

After the deafening sound outside

An invitation you know I'd decline

Always looking for somewhere to hide in

Canvases, oh, the sterile white

I wish I could be honest or even be nice

Do you hear me when I talk to you?

Do you just hear the parts that you want to?

Throwing my voice, an expert in disappearing

I guess that it's nice to be good at something

When I walk through windows, the contents of my skull

Painting the concrete a violent red

Do I get to float through the ceiling?

Dissolve into particles, or do I float around watching my friends?

Could I start over? Beginning to end

One more chance to make all the same mistakes again