The cup is not half empty as pessimists say
as far as he sees nothing's left in the cup
A whole cup full of nothing for him to indulge
since the voice of ambition has long since been shut up
A singer, a writer,
he's not dreaming now of going nowhere
he gave heed to nothing
and all that he was is just a tragedy
So he voyages in circles succeeds getting nowhere
and submits to the substance that first got him there, there, there, there
then in violent, frustration
he cries out to God or just no one
is there a point to this madness
and all that he was is just a tragedy
He feels alone
His heart in his hands, he's alone
He feels alone
I feel
Then on that last day he breaks
and he stood tall
then he yelled, and he takes his life
{why world, why world, hate you, hate you, bye world}
violent frustration
he cries out to God or just no one
is there a point to this madness
and all that he was is just a tragedy
