Nothing really ever makes sense.

How can something that's killing me
make me feel so damn alive
and how can someone as perfect as you
be so fake inside?
The world is cruel and sick,
if you would ask me.
But you won't,
because you refuse to hear the words i bring.

You're happy, sad, and totally insecure
and you boarded my windows when I shut my door.
what is wrong, what is right,
what is death, what is life?
questions like these are what bother me
I guess I'll never know.

nothing really ever makes sense.