Perspective

where does it come from

this screaming, unfitting lock upon?

that cannot play these games

is happiness just a shell for indolence?

here i sit and smile

when all inside is turning upside down

when all inside is screaming or crying

and does it really matter

(how you look at it)

how honesty prevails amongst the pressure

and unfitting dreams

you keep on hitting yourself against?

it's how you look at it

(where you look at it)

i see just a pile of shit to get rid of

sometimes so tired of trying

of pretty problems

whores in bright light

unwanted children

with nothing worthwhile to say

if i just could listen to you

but the air is so thick of greed

that i could be hitting myself against it forever

just fucking cannot!!!

pretty problems

i cannot play these games

whores in bright light

i cannot play these games

unwanted children

i cannot play these games

the pity, the blame

i cannot play these games