I feel the anaesthesia of worthlessness
when I drown in the concrete stagnation
of this beautiful view of the sepia-toned joy
I had to forsake

Everything is a copy of a copy
I have never felt so tired in all my years
I want to relate to something
that won’t wither and die

I am a stranger to myself
I can’t take the strain of this
They say it’s a phase, that I’ll fit in
but I’ve tried so many times
it’s lost all meaning

Can't you understand
I'm at wits end
Can't you understand
I'm trying as hard as I can

The End

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