Life spinning around the old beaten track.

Faceless shadows in the night pulling me back.

Lost in the echoes, do these scars seem to suit me well or is the weight of this world too much to bear

(Too much to bear)

Am I weathered and worn or just born into this spite?

Is it me who’s different or is wrong just feeling right?

In this sea of silence where my voice is ripped away,

I’m searching for something, something meaningful.

Every glance feels hollow, like a ghost amongst the crowd.

Hope drifts like whispers but I can’t say them out loud.

I am tangled in this hell, longing for a home,

amongst the despair.

Amongst the despair

(I am done with the surface it’s a…)

I’m done with the surface it’s a masquerade.

Is it me who’s different or is wrong just feeling right?

In this sea of silence where my voice is ripped away.

I’m searching for something.

(Chris Zuehlke from Half Me)

I’m done with the surface it’s a masquerade.

Behind every smile, there’s a price to be paid.

Silence it’s suffocating, venomous once it blooms.

A thorn that tears away at flesh only to consume.

Will I ever rest?