Enveloped in desolateness
Nothing helps pick me up
Not feel-good songs, cigarettes, pretty thoughts
What is it that cramps my insides?
Makes me want to hide
Run away, far away
That island sounds nice right about now
If only wishes could come true
At a snap of my fingers, or a pitter-patter of my heartbeat
Hope is never a pretty thing
Disappointment comes hand-in-hand
It always does
Under the sheets, crawl, sleep.
Anything to not feel this misery
Reality always kicks in, and it’s never good
I have to keep going, doing the things I do
Numbly, zombie-like, without feeling
Take me away, where I will never cry
And there’s always butterflies.