Tell me...why do you cry?
Are you IN mourning or is it JUST morning?
Does the sunrise shine awareness on the darkness that surrounds you like a barless prison of your own creation?
A reminder that you're sealed in a box that no one can see
Of which ironically enough YOU are the ceiling?
But you're not alone...
There's a demon lying dormant inside but there's nowhere to hide and only escape can be your saving grace
So now...you wait
For when you start to move and find a groove the inevitable stumble and eventual fall sit you right back down in the corner you've aptly named "home".
You call it "home" because you've lived there for years, blanketed in fear, paralyzed with the monster near.
The exit is in your reach but that threshold you can't breach because once again, you're in YOUR OWN WAY.
On a journey but the path's unclear, you have the drive but can't steer, so in this box you stay.
So once again in this mirror I speak
wearing a mask SO strong with a soul SO weak, I ask again...WHY DO I FUCKING CRY?
Am I IN mourning or is it JUST morning?
The answer...is yes.
So another day in this prison I'll be, I can't run and hide where the monster can't see
Because the painful truth is...the monster...is me.