The base is filled
But what you see inside is fine.
On the outside he looks happy
But he waits for someone to take an inventory check.
There are missing pieces, empty cabinets, And some items have been over looked.
The pain in his eyes are only covered by the sun glasses he wears for protection.
They can’t see me at the gate , my car windows are tinted.
So I’ll drive straight through
Tears of disgrace run down his face.
In the only place I can call my home away from home,
He asks, “Is there anyone who really can’t see past the , (“I,m doing great”) smile I put on every week?”
I’ve been taught to be a man, So I’m going to smile.
That pain I feel. It’s building up and I’m Dying Quiet.