This world ain't a wasteland
It just taste that way some times
It depends on the angle
On how you read your lines
For every brick we stack to come together to build
There's a sick little crack in this foundation still
Humans! I can't accept them
Trying to understand them
And what fuels them and their essence
I'm looking for some leverage
Catch up, trying to catch me
Curse-ed, depress-ed
Here to make you happy
"Hey daddy tell me why the clown is crying"
"Well son he's got the task of cheering up the ill and dying
On top of that everybody thinks that he's insane
Can't fathom why he'd wanna ease their pain"
Walking through this maze made of concrete walls
When you're not allowed to climb there's no way to possibly fall
When your hands are restricted to hold nothing but self
How can you get a grip?
How can you pick up what you're dealt?
The clown stays sad
The ground stays hard
With a couple pounds of migraine, a pocket full of scars
But the face stays painted on for everyone to gaze upon
continuing the bad dream till he wakes up gone