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Mute Math
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Pins And Needles
Paper thin conviction,
Turning another page,
Plotting how to build myself to be
Everything that I am not at all.
Sometimes I get tired of pins and needles,
Facades are a fire on the skin.
And I'm growing fond of broken people,
As I see that I am one of them.
I'm one of them.
I'm one of them.
Oh, why must I work so hard,
Just so I can feel like the nobles ones?
Obligations to my heart are gone,
Superficial lines explain it all.
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Sometimes I get tired of pins and needles,
Facades are a fire on the skin.
Oh, I'm growing fond of broken people,
As I see that I am one of them.
Sometimes I get tired of pins and needles,
Facades are a fire on the skin.
Oh, and I'm growing fond of broken people,
As I see that I am one of them.
I'm one of them.
I'm one of them.
I'm one of them.
I'm one of them.
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