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
