You wish upon the ceiling,
'cause it's all that you can see
and when it doesn't answer you denounce it bitterly.
You've found yourself someplace that's not a place at all.
But you can't leave till you confess; you stood no chance at all.
It's not really giving in; if you were never gonna win.
When you wear your work clothes,
you feel like such a fraud.
Is your only validation to hear someone applaud?
You're waiting for approval,
that's never gonna come.
You want some adoration,
well, doesn't everyone.
You don't deserve anymore than what you earn.
You say you don't want to be just like everybody else,
just like everybody else says.
Is every path you come across nearly beat to death?
The hour's not just running late
it's weak and out of breath.
Holding on to something that's just a wish at best.
A tired dream,
a waste of time that should be put to rest,
but you won't let it rest.
You can't let it rest.
