What it's Like To Be an Immaculate Misconception
Everything is fine
Or that’s how it seems to be
Nothing is wrong
That’s what others think of me
Everything is happy
When I play my cards right
Nothing is sad
If we talk while there is light
Everything is joyful
Because I talk about random things
Nothing is depressing
Covered in my mask, so clean
Everything is random
I make it so
Nothing makes sense
If I accidentally make a row
