Things are different from how they used to be,
I don't think this lifestyle is working for me,
It's starting to beat down on my sanity,
Separating lines are getting hard to see.
Colors blur together and make mud,
It's difficult to tell what side belongs to what;
What I'm stepping into is both white and black,
And likewise what I'm feeling is both good and bad.
Walking along endless miles of stone,
Now I know how Dorothy felt after she left home;
Running, skipping, hopping, spinning,
Twirling myself right back to the beginning,
Like some strange labyrinth that I'm trying to escape;
I try to turn back now but it's too late.
And now I'm trapped within these towering walls of stone,
Every turn I take, I feel more alone.
I'm stepping, stepping over the invisible line,
Wishing that somehow I could turn back time;
And I think I'd find it much easier to turn back,
If only things were in just white and black.