On the horizon, there's a hope we'll all amount to greater things
But we let the paths to them get broken
Why do we accept that we'll never reach an end
Where vices and regrets are not the truth, and not the cure
This won't ever stop, we are lying to ourselves
Between the margins, there's a marginal desire to be something
But we let the words written within them hold us back
Why let this context become the meaning when it's just
A pretense of abstract convictions never meant to be
We can't help ourselves, can't turn it around
This won't ever stop, we are lying to ourselves
