Born at the Wrong Time

she plays it cool, but i think she knows.
i sit and wonder if my vulnerability shows,
and we both know not to look too deep into each other,
that we might turn and run from the truths that we discover.
i was born at the wrong time,
i’m living a life, but i know that it’s not mine.
and she said «i was born at the wrong time too sometimes.»
i was born at the wrong time,
but i’m holding up alright
and i’m walking down that old fault line,
knowing the whole time something’s tugging at the bottom of my soul.
i sit and wonder and remember not to open my mouth,
should something slip and i let it all pour out:
a list of things that i’d rather not be thinking about.
so we say what we don’t mean,
and hide behind the strangest things,
never to reveal what we’re made of.
and we lie to the doctors,
as if our health gets any better
if they don’t figure out what’s wrong.
i was born at the wrong time,
i’m living a life that i know couldn’t possibly be mine.
cause something’s tugging at the bottom of my soul… sometimes.
and she said «i was born at the wrong time,
but i’m doing alright.
and i’m walking down that old fault line
knowing the whole time something’s tugging at the bottom of my soul…»
something’s tugging at the bottom of my soul,
hanging out through a hole in the bottom,
these are the things that i’d just rather not be thinking about.