A whiskey mouth, he's a hard nose too far Buddy sets the standard as to who you are You dream about it all day long Picking up the pieces of your face A reflection of light looms in your place Confusion or something makes me whole And it occurs to me that I'm make-believe, caught in a fantasy You figure that your bones have turned to rust A collection of motives it's too much The lies in your paper drawn too thin You heed to the warning signs above A pencil line laced with your God's love A hero left with nothing's good enough And it occurs to me that I'm make-believe, caught in a fantasy I know I'm not good enough to receive a life of love Because I'm a fantasy, someone's poor make believe