A Miniature Deformed Version of Myself

I'm the father
Of this clutter
What a pretty picture
The one that stays the same

I am burning
Behind these curtains
What a pretty picture
The one that fits the frame

I'm the father
Of this clutter
What a pretty picture
The one that fits the frame

I was mistaking love for admiration
Never been able to realise
How I wasn't patient
Before I'm able to understand
I see the worst in people
Seems like the voice inside my head
Grows deeper

And my obsession
My unstable ego
Sometimes I'm turing into god
Sometimes the doubt is lethal

Never believed that everyone is equal
We're fighting to be relevant not people

We want to
Fulfil our purpose
Create an image
How do you measure success
Among people?
We chose
How to control it
How to perceive it
There is no need to understand when we decide the meaning

We want to
Fulfil our purpose
Create an image
How do you measure success
Among people?
We chose
How to control it
How to perceive it

There is no need to understand when we decide the meaning
There is no need to understand when we decide the meaning
There is no need to understand when we decide the meaning