Byron Fake Life
i pour all my blood on your ignorance
to awake
that you inside, outside, beside your whispers
that quake
that you use to calm down with some artificial diversion
you look solicitous 'bout your social status dimension
but you know you're faking
you feel the hollow, you're shaking
all the way
from my side you're not looking very well
so pale
the night seems to be your way of forgetting
the day
when you work for those rich guys who don't know who the
hell you are
for the papers that pay for the pressure stirring your
blood and scar
your foolish patience with a shooting star
they covered your eyes with a fake life
tv and magazines present the ideal wife
terrorists threaten your promotion time
give me a break, i don't give a dime
for this cheap way of buying your breath and supply
you're numb with illusions of comfort and try
to steer clear of the truth that it's just about
ourselves
we have to dig deep, not someone else
