Screws fall out all the time, the worlds an imperfect place.
when you grow up, your heart dies.
And I see me and don’t like what I see.
What do you care about what I think anyway? I don’t even count, right?
I could disappear forever and it wouldn’t make any difference
When someone asks me whats wrong, my instant reaction is to lie and say everything is fine, despite how crap I feel.