I woke up with my hands bloodstained
I looked at the mirror, and my image wasn't reflected back
But maybe, the problem is not that natural.
Actually, I don't assume the fault
For not being here anymore
Pretend to understand it, the same way I pretend to live
And you don't even see the truth
And you don't even see the truth
I am not proud
And I don't believe
What I did wrong yesterday
I pretend to be what I am not
I can see, but I can't change
What good is being regretted?
What good is being regretted?
And you don't even see the truth