Who are you, really?

I often see you switching masks
But I never know if the cheek I'm stroking
Is flesh or fiction

My own cheek is stained with tears
That disappear into the rushing brook below
Not tears of heartbreak; only of anger
Anger that a person could be so unapologetically ugly
Anger that I always brought the glass to my lips
After you filled it with liquid facades
So thinly veiled that I could see right through
And I drank even though I wasn't thirsty
I was just looking for something
To drown out that ever-present emptiness

You thought you were getting away with something
But it was known all along
I was just too defeated to raise a voice against it
I don't like myself any more than you like me
Which isn't saying much

Where are you, really?

You've got that distant look in your eyes
Your mind seems elsewhere
Are you thinking of her?
Or maybe it's just all those pills you ate

Today, the vacant you isn't even here
Although you swore you would be
Your remnants are all over this fucking house
Naked flesh captured on film
The artwork of projected sentiment
The dinner awaiting your arrival
Emptied wine glasses from drunken nights past
These objects in your absence
Almost add up to the whole of you
Which isn't saying much

What are you, really?

Only a monster could lie so ruthlessly
Could give us both that piercing stare
Straight-faced and with such conviction
And promise we were the only one
Could swear of such falsities
On the grave of a fallen love
I'm convinced you have no soul, no emotions, no shame
Are you much more than a poorly decorated outer shell?

When I speak my mind
Give you my two cents
I toss the coins into your open mouth
They roll down your throat
And sink to the bottom without a sound
You're an empty fucking void
Your skin's your only substance
Which isn't saying much

How are you, really?

Bits and pieces of your shell are flaking off
Those hairline cracks at your temples are spreading
The rift between yourself and the ones you've deceived is widening
No amount of pills will make the tremors in your brain go away
Your world's about to shatter and your lies won't save you now
A few crooked beams remain in your foundation
But that isn't saying much.



Lyrics submitted by Belovedlife

Ballad of the Mask Maker song meanings
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