Everywhere I look,

Time is passing by.

I wish I could fly away,

From all of it.

Pressure all around me,

But does anyone really see,

That I'm screaming on the inside?

Grades, sports, clubs, work,

What is the point?

The pressure to be perfect,

Haunts me in my dreams.

All of this pressure,

Every day of my life.

But will really matter,

When the good Lord calls me home?