for not going anywhere

there's a road inside my head that doesn't lead anywhere.
there used to be something at the end, but it's disappeared.
if this is real life, i should go back to bed,
where i can't hurt myself, and i won't feel regret
for not going anywhere.

i'm in love with a dancer, and it eats at me like a cancer,
that i can't get a straight answer out of my own head.
there's lots of good inside of me, with no means for release,
and i think i've lost the keys to my own heart.

today i should have stayed in bed,
because being out here hurts my head,
and when i feel i'm moving somewhere
i get shoved back to the start.

there's a love inside my head that doesn't know any bounds.
and a gun for motivation, for which i'm all out of rounds.
if this is real life, i should lay back down.
where i can dream of a smile.
i push myself around but don't go anywhere.