That time of year again,
when carols about Santa...

I believe in you,
and I believe things will get better...

The pretty parts are great
and the masks you wear...

Every scar that fades,
pulls me into a depression...

It's easy for me to tell you what I want.
I want shoes, books...

No matter how many times I say I'm sorry,
I can't change what happened...

They say you never know what you have
until it's gone...

Promises were broken
and love was lost...

My pain is not pretty,
and my suffering is not delicate...

Everyone tries to fix me.
They all think they're the one who can...

How is it
you're the very first thing on my mind...

The poor souls,
not yet even lived to see...