It's not perfect as you can see.
It doesn't seem like it to me.
I'm on my road to Nowhere,
my own road to desolation.

It's like it doesn't exist except for me,
on the road for the ones who don't believe in me.
When I say there's always a road,
I'm on my road to Nowhere,
my own road to demolition.

Doesn't it confess that the end of the world
Always seems to touch for me?
So breathable,
I can feel it on my skin.

I'm all alone,
on my road to Nowhere,
my own road to isolation,
from the time I opened my eyes
all the way to my body falling into the grave.

On my road to Nowhere
my own road to devastation.
As I sidestep my way to Hell,
barely blinded and standing,
I turned around,
even when they told me to never look back,
to never look at my own footsteps buried in the ground of once was,
to never see where I came from,

I saw someone else
on my own road.