These words slip through the cracks in between my fingers.
Which came first?
The music or the misery?

It's too much work,
being someone you aren't.
You'll never win.

Those who are true to themselves,
will survive.
They'll continue to walk this earth,
when all the fakers have died.
In the apocolypse of lies.

These words slip through the cracks in between my fingers.
The misery came first.