No matter how hard I try
No matter how often I nourish my 'why'
I'll still be this weird kid with an idea
That I thought it was worth for to die
Every little step I make
Turns into misdirection
Every little wall that break
Being scrapped and built as a bigger one.
I don't know any longer
If my compass shows the right direction
I don't know if I get stronger
Because I'm so used to action...
Pathetic is a life of a lier
Not so the life of a writer.
Life of a writer is an ominous
Fight with thought about no action.