How Delicate

These memories are not my own
Who is this that dreams of me?
Too much time has been crossed
And this face is not mine
What lies beneath is quite sure
You don’t want to see deeper
This mask I wear is starting to break
It’s made of porcelain
How delicate is this illusion you call me

Even if I found the right words to explain
You still wouldn’t understand
If I could find a way to bring it all to life for your eyes
You still could never see
This mask I wear is starting to break
It’s made of the finest crystal
How delicate is this illusion I call me

The masks we wear will all break
Made of our perfect lies
How delicate will be our hearts when we’re forced to see