Fight or flight

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