THE HISTORIAN

Is this how it’s supposed to be?
A lonely boy who’s insides just want out?
A silent catastrophe, all bottled up with nowhere to escape?

But I’m finding a way to rewrite my history.
Try not to dismay with these loneliness mysteries.

I see all these friends of mine
parading around town, no single care.
But I’ll wait here close behind,
and hope for any sign you’d want me there.

But I’m finding a way to rewrite my history.
I don’t think it’s too late to fix these loneliness mysteries.

Take your medicine and run!
Don’t believe, don’t believe what you hear inside.

Look at the children play, their hearts so full of joy.
Don’t tell them, now, that it could all end today.
The ones you love will always let you down.

I’m still finding a way to rewrite my history
I hope it’s not too late to fix these loneliness mysteries
Take your medicine and run!
Don’t believe, don’t believe what you fear inside.