I get paranoid at my own reflection.
I’m scared it’s going to smile back and tell me who I really am.
I’m scared that if I ask why, I’ll get the answers I don’t really want to know.

Who are you?
Who are you really?
Because I know you’re not me at all.
I know you were never what I wanted to become.
So why are you standing there, mimicing everything I do?
I’m pretty sure that myself wouldn’t do what you do, reflection.
You’re just bad because you were always stuck in the same room;
condamned to do everything I do.
So why are you doing it wrong?

Everyone will tell you I always wanted to be a sucessful and ambitious person.
I can see you’re not like that at all anymore.
Why is your face covered in mascara now?
Don’t tell me you feel bad for doing that to me?
Don’t tell me you feel bad for betraying my dreams.