"How many people in this world are like me?" From a distance we look much the same Wondering if cold is the absence of something because I've felt this forever After a while you learn that everything stops We're ageing and we all die alone The constant tick tock of lifeless irritates We're all so f**ing dead Heartless means little to those who have Caved chests, bound eyes and broken hands I myself am fabricated Has this meant nothing?