[Verse 1]

I am the glass of spilt milk on the table, on the floor

I'm on the road to feeling nothing, feeling something

At least that's what they tell me to do

My stomach and its firework attitude

Nothing is the same

They all turn their backs from what they want to say

When what they really want to say is

"i am tired of this painful disguise

Exposition: saying that i'm fine

And its alright

Coz we all die in time."

I am your favorite only when I matter when it matters

But more important things accordingly sorted into a chore

But can't be anything more

Baby! you are a nuisance

Everything's reminiscent

Explosive

Baby! you are a new thing

But not my saviour

From this routine