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The clock strikes eight, the world’s awake

Another day, another mistake

I’m staring at the world through a cracked lens

Every smile hides lies, no real friends

The news screams louder than my thoughts tonight

The weight of it all, crushing my fight

Am I too sensitive, is it just me?

Too aware, too smart—is that my curse to be?

Depression not from pills, but from what I see

The problem isn’t me—it’s this world’s disease

I’m tired of the charade, the endless parade

This pain I carry feels handmade

The world’s a stage, and I want it to burn

For every wrong, it’s my turn

Traffic’s a river of hollow faces

Every soul’s stuck in their cages

I’m just a cog, a piece in the grind

But the rage is brewing deep in my mind

Am I too broken, or just too aware?

Do I see the world’s cracks, or are they my despair?

Not a chemical imbalance, but the weight of decay

It’s the world that’s broken—it’s making me this way

I’m tired of the charade, the endless parade

This pain I carry feels handmade

The world’s a stage, and I want it to burn

For every wrong, it’s my turn

I’m not a monster, just a man in despair

But the world pushed me here, it’s only fair

The cracks in my heart let the fire bleed through

If I’m in pain, then so are you

I’m tired of the charade, the endless parade

This pain I carry feels handmade

The world’s a stage, and I want it to burn

For every wrong, it’s my turn

Ashes in the wind, tears in the rain

We all suffer, it’s all the same

The world turns cold, a lesson to learn

In the flames, we’ll all burn