The Pills don't work.

Every day, these girls walk by,
and my mind fills with fantasies of a happy life,
a meaningful relationship,
but their eyes divert,
and I keep walking...
walking back to the girl that says she loves me,
but just as soon leave if only she had a reason.

And this quiet, shy facade,
is as fake as all the times she said that she cares.
And my rage bubbles over,
it dances with my sorrow,
and it makes it rain the type of tears that make your face hurt.

Maybe I'm a broken toy,
maybe I'm just tired.
Maybe I can't look you in the eyes,
when I say "I love you",
Does that make this all a lie?

I need help, oh so much help.
Or maybe just an outstretched arm?
But all that I'm given is an orange bottle full of escapism.
Maybe I don't need these pills,
Maybe I'm just fine.
Yeah, and maybe pigs can fly.

Why do I bother?
Nothing will change.
I will remain the hollow shell of what she thought I was.

Maybe I'm an outsider,
that has all the insiders fooled.
And all these faces stare,
They'll never know my sorrow.
Why should I hate them?
Why should I love them?
They are nothing,
they don't exist.
I don't belong here, in this endless void.
Life just ain't living, no life just ain't living.

And you scream at me, because I can't control my feelings,
and I can't hold my tongue.
How do you expect me to deal with this?

I'm just a youth, I feel more like Euthanasia...

I'm not sposed to deal with drugs and death, and sickness and seizures, and cancer and crack cocaine...

Oh lord, why am I here? What should I do?

Do they have pills for heartache?...

So you do what any good person would do:
Double the stress.
Pull me past the brink.
And leave me bleeding on the bathroom floor, of a nowhere town.

Forget this. Forget you. Forget everything.

I patiently await the day that a bullet will pierce my skull as i slip into the void...