In The Mist Between A Tree

All I do

All I do is complain

And by doing that the world just stays the same

I guess it makes me a cynic to say

that I've never quite trusted anyone fully

But maybe my father is to blame

Or the fools I grew up surrounded by

But it's too late to change that now

So I've just got to step off the ground and fly

But how can I fly when I've got grounded wings?

"You'll never escape, you'll never get why"

But why?

I try my hardest to please those around me.

Or is my stuff just a little too heavy?

Dark undertones and hypocritical sidelines

And that's just the way that I'll be.