One day turns into another,
And I can't get along with anyone, not even my mother;
Watching the seasons change, trying to hurry it along,
Nothing new, like a sad, sad song.
I always looked forward to something,
Any little thing that might make me sing;
But as the months change to years,
The laughter has been far outmatched by my tears.
I don't like this place, it's like a cave,
And slowly, it's inching me toward my grave;
I'm too young to really feel that life is already done,
But as I look, has this place also got to my son?
