Nice car drives, open blue skies
Bright depression swallows all
Forty lies, fake friend ties
Why do they pretend not to fall?
A million friends, fun that never ends
Appearing so good in their shell
When in their mind, you'll surely find
Their life's a living hell
Emptiness, sorrow and clouded despair
They pretend to be so cool
Fancy clothes, rejecting those
They think to be a fool
Rich little snobs with synthetic look
Cliques of the better race
Non-accepting of the wronged they forsook
When will they see their own face?
Depression eats away like an acid
Burning away on dry skin
But one day they will turn away
And end their lives of sin
Preps of money, strife, and acting
They blind each other with fame
Pretending to be perfect
That's the name of their game
Why do they seek and destroy
Those who could truly help them?
They treat others like a soulless toy
When the toy could openly forgive them?
The in crowd is nothing
A man-made idol we see
Without it you could have true something
So why would you want to be?