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Back on the tightrope, there's nothing left in my heart anymore.
Living a life; knowing it'll be forever until it "gets better."
Closing these eyes to shut away the truth. 
Throwing together a soul to call mine,
Posing so I can fool not only myself but also the time.

Apathy or misanthropy,
but the truth of life is the competition to find who you can call mine.

Through the comparisons and sugar coated lies,
There's no surprise of the fall-- Technicolor to black and white.

A soul like fire, now cold like coal.
No voice, No words could be reached.
Broken promises, each one I knew I couldn't keep.
Each part of me, patched up in my sleep.

No more for me, no more for that poor soul.
My existence that died off yesterday.
With the heart that had already frayed.
The only part still here is the mind that just wishes to say,
"Ignore me, she's not here today."