“It’s you, you’ve got my life to take a wrong turn
and you’ve taken away even my will to correct.
So it’s not my own fault that has let me go on aimlessly in that direction.
Predetermined cul-de-sac.”
“Why won’t you try?”
When I am asked I bring up this determinism as an excuse.
I might not make it
I might not make it
You’ve taken away even my will to give it a try
I shouldn’t go on like this
Yeah I have to wake up
But I don’t know what it means and where I should go
How can I do?
I have no idea
Now I’m in a fog
Random impulsive talking with no feet on the ground
Feels like I am on the clouds
Feels like my feet to stand were lost
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