Frustration - Moffatts, The



There's no windows in this place

for me to show my weary face.

Rage I hold within my soul

at times I cannot control.

What's the point of me being here?

When being me is what I fear.

Every day it's all the same

trapped again in my own pain.

I cry myself to sleep

so many secrets I must keep.

No one to reach me...nobody cares.

Trapped in the middle of a distant stare.

I've prayed that I was free

of this grief that's filling me.

Everywhere I turn

every bridge must burn.

There's no windows in this place

for me to show my weary face.



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