What is real?
Tell me, what is real?
Everything’s so intense, supposedly I’m moving so called forward
But is it real?
Feel my heart growing cold, keep mind on the goal
But is the goal an addiction, a distraction?
From what really matters.
From what I should be doing.

If I work really hard, will I reach?
Will I still be human next time we meet?
All the people I forgot
Who I loved, who inspired me
that my mind just chopped off
With the blunt knife of focus
The blindfold of determination

Emotions shutting down
Every day a neurotic calculation
A vacuous equation
When the heart has run away
What is the point anyway?
What is real and what is wasting time?
And how are you? I'm fine.

Internal suicide by surpression
Of your own humanity and expression
Still moving, walking
But have no idea where the path is hiding
I’ll count to ten
Then I’ll run into the forest and I'll look for you
Or out of the forest.
First need to understand where I am.