paris depression.

help, is it anyone in there?

i swear that i thought i’d become alive at night,
because some do feel better when outside there’s no light,
yet there’s no one in this dark and while i love being alone,
i’m not digging it tonight, so i think i might go home.

and there’s rain, and there’s snow, and these streets look quite weird,
i see people smiling, at night, in my dreams,
but there comes at time when i wake up, and no,
there’s no one out there, no one that i know.

so i keep spinning in circles, on these streets i’ve walked before,
it feels like forever since i’ve last took a walk on,
there are buildings i’ve entered in, places i’ve always seen,
now they all seem unfamiliar, they’re wondering where i’ve been

but they should know by now that i swore i’d return,
i swore i’d move on, i swore i’d let it all burn,
after all, i am my own world’s maker,
but what once was rock inside of me, now is nothing but paper.

so as my eyes look up to the glittery sky,
i’d rather not wonder myself, ‘why, oh why?’,
i’d rather blame my apathy, for not coming back when i should’ve,
if you know more than me, go, shout it

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