I don't think I listen very well, distracted by your upper lip
I feel like things are going south, I'm so tragic and so hip
I feel I'm running out of time, feeling like my hearts about to rip
I need a sign every now and then, when I question my own grip
What is wrong with being who I am, liking the figure in the mirror
It doesn't get easier with time, of that I'm very sure my dear
I see me through eyes of seventeen, in those eyes I can see fear
Listening to my trouble mind, I can't find what I want to hear
Maybe a rhetorical question, toyed with in my own psyche
Maybe I spend too much time alone, a causality of apathy
Maybe the world is too complex, maybe there are things I just don't see
Maybe a rhetorical question, or maybe it's just me
What if I could lie a little bit, or just pretend for a while
What if I get dressed up in my best, and paint on a great big smile
What if I just shelter here in place, wait until I come back in style
What if I'm at mile twenty five, can I run another mile
Maybe a rhetorical question, toyed with in my own psyche
Maybe I spend too much time alone, a casualty of apathy
Maybe the world is too complex, maybe there are things I just can't see
Maybe a rhetorical question, or maybe it's just me