Doubt

You actually think you're gonna make it?

And so you do, and then what? You'll never be respected as an artist

Oh please. He's hardly an artist, he doesn't even have a label

And with the numbers he's producing, he needs one

Lately I've just been feeling sad

Like my walls are made of glass, and my tears are made of gas

Like the ground is gonna break beneath my feet and it's all bad, In fact

I'm having trouble sleeping, breathing's easy

When I'm not thinking, when I'm alone I find myself believing

Yeah (You wish upon a shooting star too?)

Loneliness is permanent, I don't remember happiness