What if my life is a joke
A withered joke that's used just to make "it" happy and tickled
And it doesn't even let me taste the fruit of my own exaltation
Then what if my bliss suddenly says, "Goodbye and let's die"
And it doesn't want itself to ever come by
What if I don't want the morning to follow
Cause it's too goddamn bright
What if the blue sky doesn't wanna change to its color anymore
As it thinks it's not right
As it thinks it doesn't deserve it anymore
I've been asking myself what it feels like to hate joy, or, like, what's
the point of questioning this kind of thing, but, isn't it the purpose
of our lives? Or is it, though? Well, questioning, living, hating, loving, whatever.
And I know reality's cheesy sometimes
Yet I also understand that I'm just a tourist in this mean, callous place
I'll pass across like a shadow
And when I cease to exist, nobody'll even fucking care
What if all of them just happen all of a sudden
Well, apparently I'm just gonna sink with the sun
I'll be faded with the sun
And I'll be burned
And I'll be rotten
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