All these faces I pass every day,
All these people, they all look the same
Somehow, they're empty, their faces are vauge.
All of these words that I manage to say,
All of these sentences, hollowly claimed,
I say many things, but they're all drenched in shame.
Every expression I form on my face,
Every molded smile, laugh, frown, pout and grimmace,
All of them plotted, none of them sane.