Plague me with simplicity because I can't stand the drama
This is the real life I'm living
Even if that thought makes me ill
And I'm sure it gave me the diseases the doctors speak to me of
But I have no proof those diseases are even real
What is real?
What is the self that makes it so we can identify who we are
Because I'm sure if we really had that skill we'd be suicidal
Just because we'd be so sick of our own productivity
I'd eat my shell out if I could see without it
But truth becomes unfair when you don't really mean it
So I guess the end means the same as the beginning
When all you did was love and all I lost was meaning
So plague me with your ecstasy so I can breathe again
And I guess it's okay if we are just friends