When I'm running around this place, everything is just right.
There is no questioning each other, we all just know, there is no might.
But why do I have to be the odd one out, to feel like something just doesn't fit.
It feels like I'm trying on clothes, but none are made for me, not the right knit.
Maybe it's me, or the fact that our lives aren't as perfect as everyone seems to think.
I'm out in the middle of an ocean and, all there is left to do is sink.
So why doesn't anyone save me from this fate?
Whenever I have good intentions I always seem to come a day to late.
All I need is a little help. How hard can it be to lend a hand?
Someone had to have thrown me into this sinking sand.
As my last days slowly pass, I wish I had done it differently, and spoke my mind, to find the few others like me, hiding in fear of the here and now.
Just waiting, to take their final bow.
I want to scream, and tell them it's OK.
But I never really know what to say.
With my voice, stolen from me, as if I'm from another planet.
It feels like there was just a 10 mile marathon, and I ran it.
Except for the normal pinging in my heart, it would feel empty
Like my life has grown to be.
But now I see the error in my ways, by not coming out, and speaking my mind.
I was just tying myself in a tighter bind.
But why couldn't I see what was right there?
Now I will finally make the right chose and not the wrong, now I finally see.