I'm no longer myself, only an emphasized version.
A clown walking in a city,
Tiring people with my overdrawn smile and waterguns
The crowd pigeon-hole the odd ones,
I suppose that I could choose to sink and fall in the hole they digged for me.
I am sorry you thought their lies were true.
The city never brought me love.
They see me as a clown, calmly I'll play the part,
Hold the smile, make them laugh.
Hoping at night they'll never hear me cry
They pass by, saying I am a queer sugar.
Defined and dimished by one word they've carved on my forhead.
A word I chose to prevent them from leaving,
My diseased mind is hard to read,
And my heart an ocean too deep for you who wants to swim
I am not my actions. I am not my words.
We're all entities and spirits limited by others.
Trying to get some of our grandiose form back in our flesh.
