When no one's listening to silent complains,
We find happiness in telling ourselves, we live in our own world.
Buried in our own remains.
When no one changes; what we call fate tonight,
The destiny we could all change, the one for which we didn’t fight.
It doesn’t matter what the decision matters tonight, just that there is one for me to make,
It doesn’t matter if we are not willing to change, it doesn’t matter what decisions we take
Scared of the changes, the identity we call ourselves own, the world we call ours so close,
The reality we never wanted to face and the changes that we simply didn’t choose.
Chances that what’s wrong can’t be made right again, and neither right made whole again,
Chances are that, our being “ourselves” and living the life we find insane.
Looking for directions we are too scared to ask, truths we often forget to tell,
When the time comes, we seem to think we are unheard even if we yell
I can look for a distant echo in my heart, the resonating sound I seem to hum always, the feeling that I know is so mine,
Where home is but home again, and the days are always different like the evening sunset or the morning sunrise
I reason my choices, the ‘me” and the world I call my own this day,
And every path I haven’t travelled, everywhere I haven’t looked, knowing it would end someday.
Why is it luck, why is it realization to have faith one last time, every time we choose to give up, so many a times?
Why is it; true friendship, true humanity and the things that truly mattered are harder to tell ourselves,
“you are not mine”?
I play my song today on the piano, on the guitar, the violin and everything that has been a chord,
When my word simply seems to be making sense, and in my insanity I lay discord.
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