In pressure time, coffee gets cold inside my hands

It's simple math, I should go out instead of running round and round inside my bed,

Enjoying lazy thoughts rising in my head.

Then try to climb right through the boredom

Cross it and let the balance flow.

Every hero needs a white lie and that's how we make it through with compromise,

And a lot of flowers to harmonize until we find each other.

There's always something in the way

So, there's no reason to complain

The little things will keep me here

I guess we're all the same.

Nothing to compare

There's nothing left, nowhere to hang

No room for anger

I'm still the young boy eating soup

Running home, late for school

Knees scraped and crocodile tears

Telling jokes to anyone to hide a lot of despair

There's always something in the way

So, there's no reason to complain

The little things will keep me here

I guess we're all the same.

Sadly made by the smiles that we miss.