Most of it is fake
The bright lights
The crowds of people
The perfect days
And their laughter like
Nothing here is ever wrong
Like some of those stupid love songs
But we just do a good job of hiding
Behind clouds of smoke, pills, and beers
Covering our faces
Working ourselves to sleep
Being abused by our fears
Because god forbid we let ourselves feel something more
that could puts us all in even more danger out here.