Never listened to, always heard
My opinions and personalities never get birthed
You left me with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide
But where can I turn when my scars are on the inside?
And I can hear you say this is a victory.
So who's in charge of my head today?
Dancing with the Devil, or Angel's play?
Schizophrenic without any other side to know
Altruistic but for that, integrity had to go.
And I can't say if we're ever going to be free.
I feel the constant lurching of regret, the sins of my flesh
Liquid courage and an internal sorry can clash but never mesh.
But where else can I go when my body is chasing me?
And where else can I go when my surroundings green with envy?
Tell me, am I ever going to be me?