Astral Suicide

I'll scratch your ego if you scratch mine
Who am I? Well, I can't decide
I have a multitude of masks with nowhere to store them
The voices give me warnings but I just ignore them
Finding comfort in the ride that everyone calls insane
Happy doesn't cut it anymore
Happiness is far too plain
Plastered smiles at the starting line of fate
The race starts as the gun goes off
Instead of running, I just wait
Apparently I'm disqualified, says those in "control"
That's okay with me because racing fate isn't my goal
Do they even realize that less means more?
Trophies are a heavy weight when you're trying to soar
I step into my dreams and face my silvercord
My knife cuts me free
Some call is astral suicide
I just call it being bored

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