Too good to be true
The hope comes to you
The sciences approach
No more cockroach
Voices shout me, guilt appears
They dont want my ears
They hate me, hated me, darkness, dead
Rotten, swollen, green bread.
Loved, accepted, seen and clear
Im happy that it is here
She shouts coz she takes what she thought was hers
But it was all me, my ears.
Not sick, not wasted, not bad, no joke
The sun shines outside me, and I am not broke.