| Think of the people you meet every day
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| Think of the characters they try to portray
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| They hide what they’re thinking hide what they feel
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| In an age of hypocrisy nothing is real
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| Faces are just curtains of stone
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| That hides their true feelings till they’re alone
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| Who can you say that you really know?
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| You see only the façade they wish to show
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| Is it that they are weak or afraid?
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| They live out their lives in this masquerade
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| They are all clowns behind a painted smile
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| They tried to enchant, persuade or beguile
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| Faceless with no thoughts or ideals
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| Transparent reflections, nothing is real
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| They cling to their idols echo their lives
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| But it’s only a front, a place they can hide
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| Their own minds suppressed from birth to the grave
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| Enacting their lives in this masquerade
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| I look at myself am I the same
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| I try to find out if I play the game
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| Which side of my soul does everyone see?
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| The face that I show is it really me?
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| There’s no way of knowing if I play a part
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| Is my true self left in the dark?
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| Am I for real, or what I am made?
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| Or am I just part of this masquerade? |