I am lost
In this great universe
Trying to find someone
Who cares 
Who shows me the truth
I don't want someone who wants me
I don't want the boy who likes me
And I know it sounds crazy
But I know he is not the one for me
I don't even want to bother with it
It makes me happy to know there is someone
But he is not the one
Sure he likes me
He just doesn't have...

There is the language of joy. It is the one thing we can all rely on, the one thing that everyone feels, longs to feel or has felt in their lifetime.  Although, the one thing about the universal language of joy is that there is always a point that most of us reach, where we no longer feel that joy and we feel as if it has escaped us. Even in this point, there is a hope to feel that...

Part of a World 
Where everything is strange
And everyone is different
Sometimes there is someone
Who will actually understand the pain
And the love
And the joy 
And the hurt 
Of Living 
And being
Part of a World 
Where it seems like I don't exist 
In this strange Beautiful place 
Part of a World

So many things
Keep me up at night
The hate
The love
The pain 
And the joy of this world
It makes a big difference
When you say one word 
Or do one thing
You could destroy someone
Something
Or you could build someone up 
Save someone

Long life 
Filled with sorrows
Lost sorrow
Filled with love
Long love
Filled with joy
Lost joy 
Filled with hate
Long hate 
Filled with emptiness
Lost emptiness
Filled with life
Long life
 

You are not welcome here
In this town filled with 
Other people's tears
You are not welcome here 
In this place I hid away from
Other people's fears
You are not welcome here 
In this heart filled with 
Other people's tears
You are not welcome here
In this place that I have built from 
Other people's fears
I am not welcome here
In this town filled with
My own tears
I am not welcome here 
In the place they hid...

Mrs. White opens the door to see who it was knocking. Quickly, I rush to her. Both of us walk out only to see a dark, desolate street with one flickering street lamp. Slowly and sadly, we both return to the comforts of our house. When we are inside, I tell Mrs. White we should return to bed. She replies with, 
    “I would rather wait. Someone was knocking and I want to know who. It might be my son.”  ...

There are things that I wish I could tell people
The most important one is about who I am 
Eventually it will get out 
And then I will probably be dead
I miss who I used to be 
The girl I once was
Before I thought I could be anything
It would be better to know nothing 
Than to know what I know now
I want to be free 
From the burdens of being who I am