I'm falling, falling beneath all of this make believe.
No one needs to know that it all isn't real.
Because I would rather pretend,
then having to come out from all of the slander.

All of these finite thoughts, the superfluous judgement,
they're all breaking through slowly.
Every single one of them cracking through my thin walls.
They sure know how to destroy a soul.

My head's screaming for an escape.
It knows exactly what it wants, no inchoate fantasy.
But my desire to fit in yells back,
yet again knowing what it wants.

What about what I want?
That's the truth, where it all begins.