you get up each day trying,
your heart is in your head,
because inside your heart is crying.
Everyday seems just the same,
you try to fake a smile,
but each smile remains unchanged;
your a master of disguise.
Silence becomes your manner,
a practiced way to learn your place.
Books become your mind,
your imagination comes from these.
but the pages you turn in life,
you later regret reading.
They remind you of past things,
and the people that you've lost.
So why should these days be any different,
then the ones you had before?
Whys the sky expected to be bluer,
when its blue as it can get?
Why are we all involved in lying,
when these are the people we trust?
Why is change the thing we want,
when change is what we hate?
This world is helplessly ignoring,
the people who need us most.
we're too absorbed in other things,
that we block out the orphans crying.
And if an angel we're to fly by,
I bet you no one would see it,
because miracles in your life,
have become only what you read.
I could say your mother died,
and i'd have wasted my own breath.
You see this civilization,
demands an uncaring heart.
We block out the world so well,
with phones and computer games.
To the point that love doesn't matter;
we jump relationships in days.
Tell me whats the point,
in these things we've resorted to.
A life of violent living,
a society of horrible things.
When will life ever change,
to a life we'd enjoy to lead?
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