many happy faces, many happy moments, many false impressions (all an act for you, all an act for you)

crumbles, deteriorates, falls away, discovered by the world outside (only here, only in my work, only with my words)

this is the truest representation of my life, of my soul, of my being (a burning passion within me, all consuming, making me forsake all else)

i could cross my fingers if only i could feel them, if only... (but now they've gone numb, as has my mind, as has my soul)