I'm waiting at the bus station,
For a chance to get out of my life,
I'm getting a little tired,
Of all this turmoil and strife.

I need a key or a password,
To escape from my cluttered mind,
It's full of ideas like antiques,
Forgotten and covered in grime.

I've got to board up this house,
That I called my own,
It's full of nothing but ghosts,
Waiting to get me alone.

They broke all the mirrors,
So I can't get out,
Of the pretty glass cage,
Of society's doubt.

This place is a catastrophe,
A train wreck in motion,
I'm stuck in the wreckage,
A crime of emotion.

Every turn just entangles,
Each staircase gets me lost,
I'll find my way out,
No matter the cost.

Break free of the chains,
That are dragging me down,
Each nightmare and trouble,
I earned in this town.

The doors all play tricks,
As they're locking themselves,
The books laugh at my antics,
In front row seats on the shelves.

I'm stuck with myself,
And about to give in,
There is no better prison,
Like my very own skin.