Pressures of a hundred pounds Crashing down in my life Technicalities, realized fallacies Fuel the fire of my strife How do I know which path Ill walk? Mental freedom, Its all Ill talk So many possibilities Yet my life has bee foreseen How many fucking years? Until Im a real human being Because every fucking movement Is just a petty routine Out of my reach Out of m hands I wake up everyday Just to fill your demands 24 more just waiting for the next Looking forward to something Wasted, just like all the rest Whose life do I live? I want it back! Im taking it back
technicality, bee, petty, many, fucking