Paper the House Fucked Up

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Curtain comes down, confession begins
Not all of them made it so I'm glad some stayed
'till the end
To see a self righteous young man
Turn parody
But nothing's more uplifting than to finally admit you were living a lie

Tears down my face again
As I place my head in my hands
Darkness comes and it consumes
All my past dread is exhumed
Breakdown in short succession
Interrupt the bouts of depression
Parables and methods for coping
Effective as protest unspoken

Praise gone, money spent
Just a kid wondering where his dad went
Old man, life spent
Carving a legacy, ain't made a dent

"Thirty-three was so complex,"
Screamed the singer from the crucifix
Well, it was me down on bended knees
Praying to a God whom I don't believe
In a way it is all that it gleams
But why do we kill ourselves to end the dream?
Is it commitments that bind me or am I consumed by my vanity?