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