On the horizon, there's a hope we'll all amount to greater things

But we let the paths to them get broken

Why do we accept that we'll never reach an end

Where vices and regrets are not the truth, and not the cure


This won't ever stop, we are lying to ourselves


Between the margins, there's a marginal desire to be something

But we let the words written within them hold us back

Why let this context become the meaning when it's just

A pretense of abstract convictions never meant to be


We can't help ourselves, can't turn it around

This won't ever stop, we are lying to ourselves
