you know, we’re all so flawed, we’re almost perfect
so full of holes, we’re almost full.
so fake, that we’re ourselves until the last drop
Over the top,
or in the shade,
playing it cool,
king of charade.
life’s too bitter, so I make a face,
too short to turn down an embrace.
we’re all so full of it, we’re almost empty.
heavy with thoughts, we’re almost light