I'm tired of being told to buck up or die,
I don't want to hear the words "Oh, it'll be fine."
Just because that's the easy plea, because
You can't be bothered with my insecurities.

Take your fake condolence, give it some originality,
Mean it from the heart when you say that "You can count on me."
I know that you're my friends, so you're supposed to show a little more
Interest when I say "Death is looking better each and everyday."

Will somebody take a hold and put a smile on my face,
Because I'm sick of being seen in such a pessimistic light.
I'm sick of being left indoors with the world on the outside,
With the glass stuck in my hands I'm just another problematic life.

Nothings giving, bending or breaking.
I'm sitting in a skin I would be happier shredding.
I'm itching, scratching in the dirt for a face that'll drag me out of the ditch.

I guess you're dreaming, another lie they like telling me.
But I know I'm sitting firmly in something called reality.
Reality for me and only me, not the people continually disowning me.
Not the people glancing in and retreating at the sight of my sins.

So will somebody take a hold and put a smile on my face,
Because I'm sick of being seen in such a pessimistic light.
Sick of being left indoors with the world on the outside,
With the glass stuck in my hands I'm just another in a long line..

I know I'm not helping with the whining and moaning
But it's a cry for help, a way to express my feelings,
Written down with meaning, This happens when you're seeing no one's listening.
No jokes. No lies. This is my life...

So will somebody take a hold and put a smile on my face,
Because I'm sick of being seen in such a pessimistic light.
Sick of being left indoors with the world on the outside,
With the glass stuck in my hands I'm just another problematic life.