Why is it that it is more painful to dream?
Must it be because I know I will not be able to call it mine?
No matter how hard I reach for it, it just seems so far away,
And nothing I begged for to be with me has stayed.

Deserving something shiny is not my destiny,
I know I was born to be filled with melancholy,
With misery staying close by my side,
There is nowhere left for me to hide.