About a boy

I grew up as a lucky kid, in quiet, middle-class neighborhoods, in central areas, near the Vatican, far away from any trouble. But I was just too young to realize that perhaps it was only my parents’ shield keeping those troubles at bay— not that they didn’t exist at all... They just seemed completely absent. When you’re little, you don’t worry about what your mother is thinking, or how hard your father is struggling— you simply don’t know... With all that love poured out for you, with no expectations other than your own well-being— flowing to the rhythm of a timeless soundtrack. You were raised as a happy kid, but now you feel your life is a bitter pill to swallow. With all that love for yourself— it still surrounds you, but it no longer protects you... I feel wasted. I feel wasted. I feel wasted. Oh yeah, I feel wasted. Now that I’m on my own, now that I see the world for what it truly is— and knowing that, in the end, troubles always arrive— you can’t avoid them; they’ll always outrun us anyway. I don’t pay them any mind. (I feel wasted) Do you like the air we’re breathing? But what can you really do? You were raised as a boy who needed protecting... and now you no longer have your armor. With all that love you received... you no longer know how to adapt to the real world. [ OUTRO fading out ] I feel wasted I feel wasted I feel wasted I feel wasted I feel wasted (it’s just what we experience) I feel wasted (it’s just what we feel) I feel wasted (it’s just what we hear) I feel wasted (it’s just what we find) I feel wasted (it’s just what we are) I feel wasted (it’s just what we experience) I feel wasted (it’s just what we experience) I feel wasted (it’s just what we experience) I feel wasted