Is this how it is?
Is this how it goes?
If you don't think I see it,
you'd be surprised of how it shows.

I don't think time is waiting,
I think it's killing me.
I don't think you want me,
but my mind is thrilling me.

All I got is an imagination,
and the memory of you.
It's not the same as it used to be,
and all the things we'd do.

Take a deep, burning look,
of all the things you took,
and all the thoughts you shook,
with all perspectives you hooked.

Is this how it is?
Is this how it will always be?
Seems like things are getting worse,
as the world slowly crushes me.

Is this how it is?
Will I ever earn your kiss?
Is this how it is?
Is this just one big miss?