I'm probably just making it up
Many nights were spent in the shadows.
Did it really happen?
so many days with a painted smile on my face, or did I make it all up?
What is wrong with me?
So many nights spent weeping in the meadows,
so many days wishing to vanish without a trace.
I ask myself how many times I prayed to God, hoping for an answer,
but he never responded, so neither did I.
But I was so numb, time flew by,
maybe it's not as bad as I thought
I'm probably just making it up
I already told my friends, proof I'm doing it for attention
I wasted my life, my childhood
Everything has vanished with the wind of depression.
Perhaps if I had told someone,
I would have realized what the hell was wrong with me.
but I grew up too quickly.
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