When you look closely at the seams 
between order and chaos, 

do you see the same things I see? 

The strain, the tears, the glimpses of truth hidden underneath.

Why do they fight so desperately to mask what they are? 

Or is it that they become who they are when they put on the mask? 

Sometimes I wonder what you hide behind, 

my silent friend.

What mask do you wear? 

Or are you just as afraid as the rest of them? 

Me? Am I afraid? 

Nah, man.

I'm different.