Eyes closed, hands open, just trying to forget.

The voices singing in my head just won't shut up.

The voice of reason is telling me it will be okay,

but instead I find myself listening to the voice of rage.

What's the point of life, if in the end all we do is die?

What's the point of being strong, when it's so easy to be weak?

What's the point of a piece of wasted computer space,

when in the end it's probably going to be deleted?

What's the point of me, when they make it so obvious

that they much rather have someone else?

So many questions, where are all the answers?

It's just another question, and another one, over and over again.

When will we know the answers and everything will make sense?

That voice of reason's coming back to me and saying:

"You could be happy." But I laugh, I could be happy

only if I ignored the rest of the world and all the woes.

What's the point of ignorance if it means happiness?

Hey, voice of reason, go hide behind a door.

I bask in my voice of rage; I live by my voice of rage.

-

Eyes open, hands close, the forgetting isn't working.

Will it help if I punch a wall? It will get my anger out.

Could I sing, then, if the cold, pink glass of fate was taken away?

Would I still lie, like the deception that I am?

But, what's the point of this, if it's just another question,

just another question without a real answer.

I don't know where to turn or where to go.

Please just save me from this darkness,

all this darkness that I've become.