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?
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