Arcade

I can't do this anymore, this perfect charade,

I'm completely sick of always being betrayed,

I can't keep on repeating, for the next decade,

Your apologies are nothing but a band aid,

I need to break it down, get rid, this barricade,

Everything in me panicking, like an air raid,

Pray and hope the goodness in me, Doesn't fade,

keep on wishing, always, I'll stop being afraid,

Stop being constantly played like I'm an arcade,

With every fibre, my soul, it needs to cascade,

Needs to bare everything, blow, just like a grenade.