We fled from wars and the bombs that leveled homes to the land of opportunity.
I still remember that airplane view of toy cities and greenery.
Oh, I was only 8-years-old but I remember well mixed feelings of excitement
and being scared as hell
Our first year here must be the hardest of our lives—I've never seen my mother
cry so many times. I remember that I always missed my dad, but we joked a lot,
thank God for that
I’d get lost inside my mind when I’d start day dreaming—escape was my solution
for just about everything
Is your life only what you want to, only what you want to believe?
Do you see only what you want to, only what you want yourself to see?
(Is this my life? 'Cause I’ve been so confused. My memory it lies to me,
it’s often of no use. Is this my life? 'Cause I’ve just gotten used to running
from what bothers me and starting over new.)
But yet what would I be without my memory?
I remember I tried so hard to fit in and learn to speak this language fluently.
Inside I never felt like part of the crowd and somehow knew that I could never
be I felt truly alive with paper and a pen, expressing my emotions vividly.
And how I could put down what I couldn’t say became a life sustaining part of me
'd get so lost inside the world I was creating, reality would disappear and so would everything
Chorus
Is your life only what you want to, only what you want to believe?
Do you see only what you want to, only what you want yourself to see?
In the blink of an eye, 22 years passed me by and left me what I am:
someone that I’m still trying to understand
In the blink of an eye, a whole lifetime has left me with these choices that
I’ve made and the consequences of my actions