First came the feeling of pride in who I was,
The confident freak, the radical depressive,
Then came the anger,
Everything in the world was set against me,
The games always tampered with, the other players cheating,
The fire of my rage only made me more determined,
To prove myself to an ugly world, bright-dark city of clones,
Then came the ironically enjoyable depression,
I didn't want to cheer up, what's the point?
It would be an impermanent waste of time,
I'd only become depressed all over again.
So now I've just run out of anger, depression, confidence and desparation,
So I'm medicated, desensitized, numb,
Just waiting to go insane.