The Sorry, The Tired

Does the world know you’re sick?
While everything’s fell into place
You carry weight, on your chest
While everyone spits in your face

Nothing compares, nothing can glare
Harder than your sins
Nothing repairs the lonely affairs
When you lay in your shit you never cared

I walk along to see everyone above of me
Is watching to observe if I would break out
I lose my fickle mind because I know they’re right
Every time I’m so inclined to breakdown anyway

Does the world notice everyone’s so hurt
And sick of piling all the dirt
And nothing can ever make much sense
Cause we’re still in hell

Rapport you’ve built up and lost within a day
Cause they’re all sick of the mistakes
Your world is lost within their grasp
You’re still in hell

The love is a weapon, they cut you
You won’t forget
The martyrs, the sainted, the tired, they lost again