Secret Spy

These days I'm a double agent Nothing exciting like being a spy I'm just living two very different lives at the same time I don't know who I am from one moment to the next Will you see me or my armor? I wear the mask of bravery waking up to face each new day During the course of conversations The light behind my smile wanes under the heavy weight of this disguise I'm baring this cross to the best of my ability but I won't ask for help out of fear of your pity And the other things that I don't want to be forced to feel So who do you think you see, me or my armor?