Whose Life Are We Living?

Whispers of wonders and faces of horrors, the life that we live is the life that we wonder ...about. Do we drain our mistakes as they cycle through pains? Are musings of smiles facades crumbling away? The moments we lose, we regret another day. Yet here... we... go... finding our way, lost in this maze. There's no escaping, blindly stubling our way. And here... we... go... broken and battered, blemished bruised egos, full of destruction, with wishful affection. We'll hide them away just to keep the charade. We'll play through the game to pretend we're all okay. Who are we? Will we find our own path, blindly tiptoeing others? Running through life, desperate just to survive. Falling to knees is our own design. Falling to be free from comfortable lies. And how do we bridge a world where we all divide? Everything we build comes crumbling in time. Where does the self end, and what's real inside? Can we work together if ourselves won't arrive? And how do we bridge a world where we all divide? Everything we build comes crumbling in time. Where does the self end, and what's real inside? Can we work together if ourselves won't arrive? What is there to hope for, but to hope we're alive? When will we learn we're all just alike inside? A fear of a love of self as bias wreaks of pride. Yet here... we... go... finding our way, lost in this maze. There's no escaping, blindly stumbling our way. And here... we... go... broken and battered, blemished bruised egos, full of destruction, with wishful affection. We'll hide them away just to keep the charade. We'll play through the game to pretend we're all okay. And here... we... go... broken and battered, blemished bruised egos, full of destruction, with wishful affection. We'll hide them away just to keep the charade. We'll play through the game to pretend we're all okay. And how do we bridge a world where none of us are fine? Everything we build, we always divide! Why can't we see? Why can't we change? We see there is pain. Why's it okay to repeat day after day? Even the cries for help silently wash away. We think that we're right, that we'll be okay, but the truth is we're all just trying to fight another day. Where does the self end, and what's real inside? Can we work together if ourselves won't arrive? but the truth is we're all just dying to live another day. Where does the self end, and what's real inside? Can we work together if ourselves won't arrive? Who are we? ...I don't really know. Who are we? ...Where do we go? Who are we? Is there still hope? Who are we? I don't know, just please don't let go...