When I return, I dream of another life,
Failure transparent in the palm of my hand.
I am the contortionist, we are the contortionists.
I can feel this distance is further and further without you.
Contorting to fit, somewhere I do not belong.

Brick by brick, stone on top of stone,
I create, from these towers, built of nothingness.
I will fall, and like these worthless feelings,
There is an emptiness we long to feel inside.

Father when will you come home.
I have been dying inside.
Mother where have you gone,
Oh so how hard I've been trying.

When I return, I dream of another life,
Failure transparent in the palm of my hand.
I am the contortionist, we are the contortionists.

Hours upon hours, I am f*cking sleepless.
We are the wretched, no sleep for the wicked.
And at night we come undone.

We are anything, we are the contortionists.
This is not who I ever was. This is not who I ever was.
[x2]

We are the worthless feelings, we are the great divide.
We are the emptiness we long to feel inside.