[living is cliche]

I've forgotten who I am.

I can see pieces of who I used to be- broken like [yesterday's mirror]
and there's a newspaper spread across the table.
front page news- reported on page B2, welcome to melancholia
and the story is always the same.

[boy finds hope in life- hope dies]
and you can watch a butterfly flutter it's final days of life
pinned to a cardboard cut-out of what we want it to love

as our lives pass us by- and tomorrow is tossed out as yesterday's news
because it's all been done before. and what's said now
will touch the clouds of that sometime we all long for
and living will become cliche. mundane will replace trivial
little white lies- and we all fall down, down, down- someone forgot to tell me
that dreaming is overrated

pull the plug on inconsistencies. for you'll never amount to anything
liquid empathy, and I can captivate the masses-
one by one by one bye one- and we're back at zero
so as to never move forward. it's pointless anyways


and I've killed God. a gun to my head- and I blow smoke to the sky
the starlight flickers and the tears come down
drown me in my own apathetic greed. for I want no-one/ but me

but I've lost myself in this mass. cut the ties that binded me
and burned the bridge I've yet to cross- what luck
as I turn my head to my faded past.

I've outgrown my lies
and myself has eaten me alive-

and I hate who I've found