..and you waste all your strength trying not to fall again...
Life's a funny thing. Every one's left to fend for themselves and that's hard for some to swallow. What do you do when no one has the answer, including you? This isn't some standardized test. You can't choose "D)" 'cause it says "All Of The Above". Is it a standardized test? Are we just going through, filling in the bubbles with dull number 2 pencils and the dreadful ache in your heart that you may fail. Wrong answer, wrong answer, wrong answer. You try to answer the easy ones first but there's too many of them and it becomes this endless struggle of trying to balance the easy with the hard. For every hard question there is in life, there's an entire web of easy questions, circling and knotting and throwing you down. Is there some sort of equation? H = 1000E + X.
Life doesn't always turn out the way you want. In fact, more often than not, it seems it doesn't turn out the way you want... so does that mean that everything I want, everything I've always wanted to do, to experience, it's all some romanticized view of life that has me hopelessly pining away?
If I came across myself in the street, a picture of mascara running, fists clenched, and explicit insecurity I'd have to say, "Today was not your best day,"
I turned around and found exactly what you would expect,
The clothes I left on my floor,
The papers piled on my desk,
But where the ink is wet,
The cause, effects, what's meant by it?
The story that is incomplete,
The picture's left unfinished,
So I am writing my own ending,
I let my pen bleed black or blue,
And I will color in the meaning,
It will be gold and green and true,
And I'll learn to love my new discovered proof,
I'll be grateful for this day,
I will be grateful for each day to come.
Life doesn't always turn out the way you want. In fact, more often than not, it seems it doesn't turn out the way you want... so does that mean that everything I want, everything I've always wanted to do, to experience, it's all some romanticized view of life that has me hopelessly pining away?
If I came across myself in the street, a picture of mascara running, fists clenched, and explicit insecurity I'd have to say, "Today was not your best day,"
I turned around and found exactly what you would expect,
The clothes I left on my floor,
The papers piled on my desk,
But where the ink is wet,
The cause, effects, what's meant by it?
The story that is incomplete,
The picture's left unfinished,
So I am writing my own ending,
I let my pen bleed black or blue,
And I will color in the meaning,
It will be gold and green and true,
And I'll learn to love my new discovered proof,
I'll be grateful for this day,
I will be grateful for each day to come.