A whiskey mouth, he's a hard nose too far
Buddy sets the standard as to who you are
You dream about it all day long
Picking up the pieces of your face
A reflection of light looms in your place
Confusion or something makes me whole

And it occurs to me that I'm make-believe, caught in a fantasy

You figure that your bones have turned to rust
A collection of motives it's too much
The lies in your paper drawn too thin
You heed to the warning signs above
A pencil line laced with your God's love
A hero left with nothing's good enough

And it occurs to me that I'm make-believe, caught in a fantasy
I know I'm not good enough to receive a life of love
Because I'm a fantasy, someone's poor make believe