Real life is messy,
and it's pain,
and it hurts.
I don't need to tell you,
or put it into words.
If you've ever had a mother or a father,
a sister or a brother,
a daughter or a son,
a lover or a soul -
If you've never had any,
if you've had them all.
Then you know something of
love,
heartbreak,
and hitting brick walls.
Real life is getting your ducks in a row
and watching them run off.
Real life is getting a shank were you're soft.
Real life is messy,
and it's pain,
and it hurts.
I don't need to tell you my struggles,
you've probably had worse.
Real life is building a city
and watching someone tear it down.
It isn't the fairytale you grew up with
but a greek tragedy,
knowing you're less Cinderella,
and more Achilles.
Real life is having Pandora's box
dumped on your head,
it's the slaughter
where the sheep have been led,
it's lying on the ground
less alive and more dead.
You know it's pointless to throw your fist in the sky,
to ball, and scream, and ask God why.
You won't go asking questions, looking for lies,
and you have lost your will to cry.
Because real life is messy,
and it's pain,
and it hurts.
(Oh God, it hurts!
It hurts!
It hurts!)
Real life is messy,
and it doesn't need to be repeated.
Then someone picks you up,
and death is defeated.
