Hey,there must be something wrong with himnHe's hideing in a personnHe's hideing in a thingnAnd the singing or yellingnand i hate re-explainingnhe gets so angry,so angry so fast...nFrustrated, he gets so personalnYou think you know me?nWell i don't even know myselfnThere are too many problemsnI haven't even discoverednand he's writing finally its happening,finallynI can hide under a blanket but,nWhen i open my eyes i'm stillnin the same place,confusednwith no use for metaphorsnWhy waste my time?nI have to do this for myselfnWhy waste your time?nThese words are not for younI have to be selfishnIf i'm gonna be anything at allnanything...anythingnIf normal existed id love that to be menBut it doesn't and it isn'tnAnd neither are younthe more pretend or try, the less you arenthe more i dienso breathe ah oh, turn of the screen