Everything in front of me seemed like fair-game
if I've got time to occupy. I think I need an escape.
I think I've made a mistake, but it wouldn't be the first time.
Selfish thoughts turn into guilt before my eyes.
Pawning off excuses on my composure being lost.
I'm busy keeping up with the person I don't want to be.
I'm barely keeping up with the person I don't want to be.
And my words? They're not as real as they seem.